


M&T Short Scenes and Drabbles

by 27dragons



Series: Murderers and Thieves [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Avengers are good bros, Dancing, Dating, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, PTSD, Shovel Talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 36,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Individual scenes and drabbles following <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1719839/chapters/3664682">Murderers and Thieves</a>. There will be a lot of feels and some smut. You're welcome.</p><p>I don't have a specific schedule for updating this, so you may want to subscribe!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Date

_(This picks up directly following the end of Murderers and Thieves...)_

 

"So?" Tony said as the elevator doors closed. "At least tell me if we're walking or driving."

Bucky leaned against the wall. "Um. Driving. I already-- I mean, I talked to your driver about it. If that's okay?"

Tony didn't think he'd ever seen Bucky so flustered before. He planted his hands on either side of Bucky's shoulders and ducked a little to force Bucky to meet his eyes. "It's fine. What's up?"

Bucky snorted out a little laugh and thunked his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Nothing. Just. Okay, a little nervous. I'm not exactly well-versed in modern entertainment, and planning a date for someone like you is... intimidating."

Tony snorted. "Contrary to popular opinion, I am _really_ easy to please on a date. I like movies with lots of action and explosions and extremely questionable science. I like cheeseburgers, even fast food. I like walking in the park. I like loud music. I like... You know the point is just to spend time together, right? It doesn't matter that much what we actually _do_ , Bucky."

"Uh-huh," Bucky said. He opened one eye and fixed Tony with an unimpressed glare. "Okay, hotshot, if you were planning it, what would we be doing?"

"Um..." Tony considered it. Dinner, obviously, maybe one of those places Pepper always used to-- No, bad idea, never take a date to a place your ex loved. Well, there was always Denario's; Bucky liked pizza, and Denario's made the best pizza, plus Tony could usually count on getting that table in the back with the great view. And then after? God, it had been too long since he'd dated. Some kind of show? Not a movie, that was beyond cliche. Something off-Broadway, maybe? Even that felt a little pat, though. Bucky needed something that wasn't too overwhelming, but he _deserved_ something really special...

Bucky was grinning. "See? Not as easy as you think."

Tony harumphed, but mostly just felt amused. Also: curious. "Okay, okay. So where _are_ we going? I promise I'll love it, no matter what."

"Yeah?"

"Unless it's the ballet. If you have tickets for the ballet, I'm going to go back inside and make Natasha go with you instead."

"It's not the ballet. Are we going to make this elevator move any time tonight?" Bucky was still grinning.

"Why is that my job?" Tony demanded. "Did you forget how to work the elevator?" But he pressed the button for the garage.

Bucky wouldn't tell him where they were going even after they made it to the car. He just put his arm around Tony's shoulders and rubbed his face on Tony's hair like a cat and said, "We'll get there soon."

Tony snuggled in against Bucky's side and watched their progress through the windows, but it wasn't long before he realized they weren't going anywhere that Tony actually knew. And how the hell had Bucky -- who'd only been out of the Tower a handful of times since Steve had brought him to New York -- found someplace that Tony didn't know?

When the car stopped, Tony... still didn't know where they were. It looked like... a high school gymnasium. There were other small groups of people making their way toward the building. A lot of them looked like teenagers, and there were a few smaller kids mixed into the crowd. Tony craned his head around, but they'd been dropped off on the wrong side of the building for him to see if there was a marquee or sign.

Bucky caught Tony looking. He just looked smug and offered his arm.

Tony pretended to be more annoyed than intrigued, but wound his arm through Bucky's. "Okay, we're here now. Going to let me in on it?"

"Sure," Bucky said, as if he hadn't spent the last hour ignoring every such request. "There's a state competition for kids with an interest in robotics engineering." He nodded toward the door. "These are the finals."

Tony pulled to a halt and spun Bucky around to face him directly. "You've brought me to an _amateur battle-bot competition_ ," he said. "For our _first date_."

Bucky bit his lip and shifted his weight, his gaze flickering with sudden uncertainty. "Yes? Um. Bruce told me about it and helped set it up. But if you'd rather--"

Tony put his hands on either side of Bucky's face and kissed him, ignoring the catcalls of passers-by. "That is," he breathed when they finally parted, "the best first date idea I have _ever heard_."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely. You are _so_ getting lucky tonight." Tony grabbed Bucky's arm again and started pulling him toward the doors. "Come on, I want to find a good seat. There's at least one future SI intern in there and maybe an engineering scholarship or three. Plus, I bet ten dollars that I can pick the winner before they even start the competition."


	2. Prompt: Meeting Rhodey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following anonymous prompt: _Bucky meets rhodey and gets jealous, or something. I just want Tony and rhodey being fluffy bffs_

"You're forming the biggest goddamn superhero fraternity house in the country and you didn't invite _me_? I'm _hurt_ , Tone. _Wounded_."

Tony lit up like the sun at the sound of the voice emerging from the speakers, sitting up straight and waving at JARVIS to pause the movie. "Rhodey, cupcake! Where are you?!"

"I'm in your _lobby_ , Tony, where the hell else would I be?"

An uncomfortable knot tightened in the vicinity of Bucky's sternum. He knew that "Rhodey" was Colonel James Rhodes, the pilot of the Iron Patriot, which was the only armored suit that Tony had ever allowed out of his own control, which meant Tony trusted Rhodes like he trusted no one else on Earth. Tony's best friend since... Bucky did the math quickly: Rhodes had been Tony's closest (sometimes _only_ ) friend for nearly as long as Bucky and Steve had been _alive_ , if you didn't count the ice years.

"JARVIS, open the private elevator for Rhodey and bring him to me. Why didn't you land on the penthouse landing pad, honeybear?" Tony demanded. "You've got access, I know I gave you access, I know I _told_ you--"

"--I'm not in the suit," Rhodes interrupted, sounding amused. "This isn't a business trip." His voice took on a slightly tinny echo that meant he was in the elevator.

Tony was on his feet now, heading for the elevator as he continued gleefully bickering with his friend.

Slowly, uncertain, Bucky followed. He'd known he would have to meet Rhodes eventually, both in his capacity as an Avenger and as Tony's boyfriend. He wasn't sure which was more unsettling.

Bucky was no coward, but (unlike, say, Steve) he understood the value of a strategic withdrawal. "Think I'll head down to the gym for a while," he told Tony, aiming at casual. "Let you and your friend get caught up."

Tony's eyes narrowed a fraction, and Bucky knew he'd shot wide of the mark. "Don't," Tony said. "Stick around. You'll like Rhodey, promise."

That wasn't the problem. Bucky wanted to squirm. "Tony," he started, but the elevator doors opened and Tony was launching forward and drawing Rhodes into a hug.

Rhodes returned it with no hesitation. Bucky wondered if they'd ever been lovers. _Doesn't matter if they were_ , he tried to tell himself, but he wasn't sure he was listening. Rhodes was a damn fine-looking man. And he was probably the closest thing Tony had to family, outside of the Avengers themselves.

Rhodes caught Bucky looking and released Tony with a clap on the shoulder before offering his hand to Bucky. "You're Barnes, right? The Winter Soldier?"

Bucky was almost used to the name now, so he didn't flinch as he took the man's hand. "Colonel Rhodes," he acknowledged.

"Rhodey's fine," he said, and gave Tony a narrow, speculative once-over. "You look surprisingly well," he said. "Are you actually getting regular meals and occasional sleep for a change?"

"Bruce likes to cook; I try to appreciate his efforts," Tony said, shrugging. "And this one makes sure I get to bed at least once a day, and sometimes we even sleep." He linked his arm with Bucky's, leering.

Rhodes snorted, apparently  neither disturbed  nor surprised, and Bucky wondered if Tony had told him or if he'd gotten it from some other source. He turned back to Bucky. "You have any idea what you're getting into, here? The boy is _high maintenance_ , you know what I mean?"

"Hey now," Tony chided, though his eyes sparkled. "You need to stop trying to chase off everyone I date. Jealousy isn't a good look on you, buttercup."

Rhodes ignored Tony. "You don't have to say anything out loud, just blink twice and rub your nose if you need an extraction."

The knot in Bucky's chest loosened, just a little. He put his arm around Tony's waist, pulling Tony closer. "I'll keep it in mind," he told Rhodes solemnly. "But it'd be a shame to waste all the time I've spent building my cover." Tony elbowed him, not hard enough to matter.

"You special ops guys are hardcore," Rhodes said with a grin. "Real glutton for punishment."

"Asshole," Tony grumbled at Rhodes. "You're both assholes. I don't know why I put up with either of you."

"Who else would put up with _you_ , Tone?"

"Besides," Bucky told Tony, "you like it when I'm in deep cover." He didn't put any particular emphasis on the words, but Tony's eyes widened and Rhodes groaned theatrically.

"Are you like this all the time? I take it back. I wouldn't live in your superhero frathouse if you _paid_ me."

He was lying, but Bucky was pretty sure Tony already knew that.


	3. Cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this came from the 30-day challenge: Cuddling (naked)
> 
> _Please see the endnote for a trigger warning._

_\--thin whine and he tried to look around but he couldn't move,_ fuck _, he couldn't_ **move** _\-- "Easy," Obie said in Tony's ear, almost fond. "Breathe. You remember this, don't you?" Still talking, Obie leaned in close, lecherous, a sick parody of intimacy. But it wasn't Tony that Obie lusted after, was it? It never had been, at all. It was always the tech, only the tech._

_Obie ripped the arc reactor out of his chest and pressed even closer, hot against Tony's side, though Tony could barely feel it through the pain. "It's beautiful. Oh, Tony. This is your_ Ninth Symphony _, your masterpiece. This is your legacy. A new generation of weapons, with_ this _at its heart."_

_But instead of the Iron Monger, it was Bucky that waited, as motionless and vacant-eyed as a doll._ **No!** _Tony strained to move as Obie made the connections, touching Bucky with obscene reverence, profane worship._ **Get your filthy hands off him!** _Tony wanted to scream. As the arc reactor slid home in Bucky's chest, Bucky's eyes filled with light, arc reactor blue, Winter Soldier cold. Tony fought the paralysis but his heart was seizing. He was failing. Failing yet again, like he always did, with more to lose than ever before. Inside, he shrieked--_

"--ake up, Tony, come on!"

Tony snapped awake, dragging a gasp into his lungs by its ragged coattails. He was shaking violently, throat raw from yelling. He grabbed at his chest to make sure the arc reactor was safe, but he couldn't feel it, couldn't feel the hard edges or the comforting buzz. He clawed at his skin, desperate now, fingernails digging, searching--

Hands caught at his wrists, pulled them away and held them despite Tony's panicked struggles. "You're safe, Tony. I promise. Come on all the way back, okay? You're safe. I've got you."

Tony looked at the hands restraining him -- one flesh, one metal -- and then up into worried eyes. Blue eyes. But not arc-reactor blue. Not glowing or icy. Just grey-blue. "Bucky?"

Bucky smiled, then, a little shaky but real. "Yeah, boss. You back with me?"

Tony's breathing was still fast and shallow, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird's wings, his body shivering with adrenaline. But Obie was dead and Bucky was safe, and so he nodded. "Think so." He reached for his chest again, and this time Bucky let him spread his hand over his sternum and feel the lump of scar where the arc reactor had once been. No one would ever rip it out of him again.

"You're safe," Bucky repeated softly. "I've got you."

Tony swallowed through a dry throat. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine," Bucky said firmly. "I'm  _fine_. Are you?"

"Maybe. Soon." Tony's breathing was almost normal again, the frantic racing of his heart beginning to slow. He slid his still-shaking fingers down Bucky's cheek, brushed lightly through the messy, sleep-tousled hair. "Can we just..." He swallowed hard and felt his face heat. "Will you just hold me, for a while?"

Bucky huffed. "Few hours ago," he teased, "you were offering up goddamn _detailed_ directions on how you wanted me to suck your cock, without an ounce of shame, but wanting to _cuddle_ makes you stammer and blush?" He kissed Tony to take the sting from it, and rolled onto his back. "Dummy. C'mere."

Tony curled into Bucky's arms, nestled his head in the hollow of Bucky's good shoulder and tangled their legs together. He wouldn't sleep again, he knew, but that was all right. Bucky might doze off again for a while, and Tony would listen to his breathing and the soft, reassuring thump of his heartbeat, and that was almost as restful as sleep.

And if Tony's hand splayed protectively over the center of Bucky's chest as he rested, well, that was all right, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: sexualized assault (though _not_ rape): the nightmare depicted at the very beginning of the chapter starts out as a repeat of the scene in the first _Iron Man_ when Obadiah Stane paralyzes Tony and steals the arc reactor. In the movie, I feel that scene involves a lot of intimate, pseudo-sexual body language on Stane's part, and I make some reference to that here (though I do not think I emphasize it more than the movie itself does).
> 
> If that might make you uncomfortable, _please skip the first three (italicized) paragraphs_ , or even this chapter entirely. As a nightmare, it is _meant_ to be an uncomfortable scene, but while I am ruthlessly gleeful about pushing pain onto fictional characters, I have no wish to inflict it on the real people who may be reading!


	4. Prompt: Protective!Winter Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following anonymous prompt: _You gave us a very intriguing snippet of the Bucky/Winter Soldier's protectiveness of Tony in the kitchen. Is it possible for another interaction of Tony and that Inbetween Bucky? Maybe it's a mission (Winter and Iron Man)? Or where Winter feels Tony is in danger and 'pops out'? Essentially Bucky learning control but still prepared to do anything to keep Tony safe._

"Another business trip?"

Tony wanted to cringe at Bucky's plaintive tone. Between SI and the Avengers, they'd been apart three of the last four weeks. "Sorry, Buck. This one came up kind of suddenly, and it's got to be me. But it's only for a couple of days." Tony grimaced, contemplating his wardrobe choices.

Bucky sighed. "Where is it this time?"

Tony grabbed a couple of shirts and put them on the open suitcase on the bed. "Latveria," he answered absently, and turned back toward the closet for a suit.

\--only to find his way blocked, Bucky's eyes suddenly both distant and furious. "No," he said flatly.

Tony frowned, and tried to brush past.

Bucky grabbed his arm, twisted, _lunged_ \-- and Tony was twisting in the air. He landed on the bed, the air leaving his lungs with a harsh _whuff_. "What the hell, Bucky?" he demanded.

" _No,_ " Bucky said again. "I forbid it." His voice was low and accentless, and a chill of fear chased down Tony's spine.

Something in Latveria was dangerous enough to trigger the Winter Soldier programming.

Tony sat up, and Bucky tensed. Tony held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not going right this _second_ ," he said. He watched Bucky's face, waiting for the signs of life around the eyes and mouth that indicated Bucky had regained control. "Come on, Bucky. I need you to talk to me."

The Winter Soldier's implacable blankness faded, and Bucky's mouth set mulishly. His eyes narrowed and he said, "You ain't going to Latveria, boss."

Bucky didn't even look distressed that he'd lost control, and that, Tony thought, was a _very_ bad sign. If Bucky wasn't upset that he'd lost control, that meant he was distressed enough about the trip to willingly cede control again, if that was what it took to stop it. Which meant that Tony urgently needed more information, right now.

Tony patted the bed next to him and Bucky sat, reluctantly, then gave into Tony's tugging hands and leaned back against Tony's chest. "Tell me about it. Why not?" Tony asked, trying to keep his voice low and even.

Bucky growled and twitched, apparently still fighting for control over the programming. "Latveria's worse than North Korea. It's like a whole goddamn country of Hydra. You're _not going_ , Tony."

"You don't usually get this worried when I fly into Hydra bases."

"I worry _plenty_ , asshole," Bucky snarled. "But that's for the purpose of busting heads. You're armored, and I can make sure your back is covered. You don't fly into Hydra bases for _business_."

Bucky's whole body was still tense. Tony dragged his fingers through Bucky's hair, trying to calm him. "I have to go, Buck. SI needs a contract. Their tech is so far ahead of--"

"You don't want their tech. Not the way they… You gotta trust me on this. Find another source."

"Bucky--"

Bucky sat up and grabbed Tony's wrists. His expression was deadly serious and fierce. "Tony. I'm not kidding, here. Winter Soldier's pushing me _hard_ on this. If you try to go, he _will_ stop you."

Tony frowned, considering. "If it's that bad, someone should pick up some intel anyway."

Bucky groaned. " _Tony_."

"It's a high-profile visit. Whatever's going on, as long as I play nice, they won't be able to touch me. They're in diplomatic negotiations right now with the UN. They can't afford an incident."

"Tony, no."

"I'll take a suit and a bodyguard."

"For the love of--"

"And while I'm in meetings and letting them steer me into blind corners, you can look around."

Bucky paused, eyes narrows. " _I_ can look around?"

"You think I'd trust anyone else to guard my body?"

"Are you… Was that supposed to be sexy?"

"It sounded better in my head," Tony admitted. "Come on. I've got a business visa that allows me up to three staff. I wasn't going to take anyone, but a bodyguard is a perfectly reasonable request since I've got a history of being abducted. Everyone wins. I get to put my hands on Latverian tech, your little overprotective streak gets to keep an eye on me, and we can start pulling together some intel on the place, since it sounds like they'll be trouble sooner or later."

Tony watched Bucky think about it, poking at the edges of the programming to see how far it would bend. Finally, Bucky put his hands on either side of Tony's face and came in for a kiss, brief and fiery-hot. "Okay," he breathed. "Fine. You win. I'm going to go pack and fill Steve in on the mission and get him to work up an extraction plan."

"It's a business trip, Buck, we don't need an _extraction_ plan."

"Too bad," Bucky said pugnaciously. "I'm the bodyguard, and I say we're going to have one. It's that, or I let _him_ out to sit on you, so choose wisely." He kissed Tony again, then slid off the bed. His mouth was still set, but Tony knew a gift when he was given one. "Pack the stealth suit," he said on his way out.


	5. Prompt: De-Aging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [kisariiem](http://kisariiem.tumblr.com) (and seconded by [goldenbluedeath](http://goldenbluedeath.tumblr.com)): _...what if Tony got shot with a deaging (it's such a cliche but I love it >.<) weapon/magic and how would Bucky handle it/took care of Tony?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to do prompts more or less in the order I received them, but once I got the idea for this one, it _refused_ to leave me alone until I wrote it, so here this one is, a bit out of order. Which, given the theme, might be appropriate.
> 
> Thanks to [scribblywobblytimeylimey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblywobblytimeylimey/) for giving me evil ideas!

The good news, if there was good news to be found in the situation, was that a fifteen-year-old Tony was still a genius. So once the initial panic of the transformation had subsided and the situation had been explained, Tony took everything in stride, even tossed a few pretty reasonable questions and suggestions into the ensuing conversation about how to restore him to his rightful age.

Most of the team dispersed in search of a cure, leaving Bucky, who hadn't yet met any magic users, to stay at the tower with Tony and keep him out of trouble. Bucky grumbled a little about not being able to take a more active role, but this younger, more frail edition of his lover roused his protective instincts, so it didn't last long.

They'd finished eating dinner and were playing head-to-head poker when Tony, gesticulating wildly in the middle of some story, knocked over his soda, spilling it right into his lap. "Shit!" he cursed, flailing even more in an effort to right the cup and contain the mess, and failing spectacularly. "Shit, sorry, I'm sorry, crap!"

Bucky just laughed and grabbed some napkins. "Relax," he said, tossing most of them onto the spill under the table and a few more onto Tony's lap. "Accidents happen."

"Yeah," sighed Tony. "Mostly to me." He slid out of his chair to mop up the mess, and bumped his head on the table when he stood back up. "Ow, _fuck_ ," he cursed.

"Really, relax," Bucky said. He scooped up the sopping napkins and took them into the kitchen to throw them away.

"God, I'm _soaked_ ," Tony grumbled. "I'm just gonna go change these pants, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, that's-- _No, wait_!" Bucky stretched his legs, but teenaged Tony was apparently pretty spry, because Bucky didn't actually catch up to him until the moment that Tony had pushed open the door to his -- _their_ \-- bedroom.

Tony stepped through the doorway and then _stopped_ , staring. The part of Bucky's brain that hosted the Winter Soldier was impressed at the methodical way Tony's wide eyes flickered around the room, automatically collecting and storing the damning evidence:

The still-unmade bed with its two dented pillows. The bottle of lube that had tumbled onto the floor. The empty condom wrapper crumpled next to the trash can. The two robes hanging on the back of the bathroom door. And most damning of all, the framed picture on the desk of Tony and Bucky kissing.

Tony turned on his heel to face Bucky. "We're... lovers?"

Bucky tried very hard to suppress a sigh. "Yeah. Don't freak out."

"I'm not freaking. Old-me has _excellent_ taste in men." Tony eyed Bucky up and down with a look that Bucky was pretty certain would one day evolve into Tony's playful leer.

"Stop that, you're a child." Bucky pulled a clean pair of jeans from Tony's side of the closet. "Here, change your damn pants."

"I'm not a child!" Tony protested indignantly. He stripped out of his wet pants without a trace of shame and kicked them to the side. "And I'm not a virgin!"

"The fact that you think those things are related tells me otherwise." Bucky rolled his eyes and very pointedly did not look at what Tony was very obviously trying to show him. Christ, and he'd thought _his_ Tony was unsubtle.

"How old are you?"

Bucky grinned. "Ninety-eight."

"Ha, ha, very funny."

"You're not the only one around here to have weird things happen to him," Bucky shot back, then relented. "Chronologically, I'm almost thirty."

"Thirty, I'll believe." Tony's eyes narrowed. "Old-me is forty-four."

"Yep. Which, by the way, isn't that old, so stop calling him that."

"Huh."

Bucky knew that tone, and he wasn't falling for it. He pointed at the door. "Okay, you're changed, get out. Back to the cards. It was your turn to deal." He really, _really_ didn't want Tony to notice the silk aviator scarves that were tied to the arms of the chair and start drawing more conclusions.

It wasn't until they were a couple of hands into the game that Tony observed, carelessly, "It's the same age difference."

"What?"

"The age difference. Between us. It's the same. Fourteen or fifteen years, give or take a few months. The only difference is which one of us the older one. I wonder if that's something to do with the spell that zapped me."

"Don't know," Bucky said.

"Am I good in bed? Totally kinky?"

"I am _not_ talking to you about my sex life." Bucky pretended to focus on his cards.

"But it's my sex life, too," Tony pointed out, smiling slyly. And goddammit, that was _exactly_ Tony's smirk. Unlike the leer, this expression had apparently been perfected early in Tony's life. It was really unfair how sexy Bucky found that smirk, even on this version of Tony.

"Not yet, it isn't. You wouldn't want to talk to a toddler about _your_ sex life, would you?" Bucky fixed Tony with a glare. "The age difference curve is geometric, not linear."

Tony's eyes widened helplessly. "Holy fuck, you can talk _math_ ," Tony breathed. "Do you have _any_ idea how hot that is?"

Bucky cursed under his breath, because he knew _exactly_ how sexy Tony found it when he talked that way. It had been Tony who'd _taught_ him. "That's just algebra," he grumbled, trying to brush it off. "You're, what, in your second year of MIT already. You're so far past it that it shouldn't even be a thing with your, whatsit, multinomial calculus--"

"Multivariable. And that was last semester. I'm taking diffy-q and linear--"

"That's my _point_ , you should be past being turned on by _algebra_ ," Bucky interrupted. "And stop trying to play footsie with me under the table. Even if I wanted to, you're not even of legal age. Just. No."

Tony fluttered his eyelashes in patently false innocence. "Just trying to stretch a little," he said. "Sorry if I keep bumping into you. But fine, I get it: you won't touch me, can't, whatever. It's fine." He stood up. "I'm going to get some more soda."

Bucky almost relaxed, but Tony trailed his fingers along Bucky's shoulder as he walked by, then leaned down to whisper, "You can't touch me, but I bet I can still touch you."

"Please stop," Bucky groaned, dropping his head into his hands and trying very hard not to think about the way Tony's breath had ghosted over his ear.

Tony laughed all the way into the kitchen, and Jesus, Bucky could almost hear the beginnings of Tony's bedroom voice in that throaty chuckle. And he knew, he _knew_ that he shouldn't be finding a teenager sexy, but it was still _Tony_.

And Bucky _couldn't_ give in, not even a little bit, not even to admit Tony's ham-handed attempts at seduction were kind of cute, because _it was still Tony_ , and if you gave Tony an inch, he'd take a mile, and that was obviously behavior Tony had cemented long before even his teen years.

Bucky scrubbed at his face and told himself to pull it together.

...Tony had gone pretty quiet in the kitchen. Bucky frowned and cocked his head to listen, just in time to hear a muffled _thump_ and a high-pitched whine.

Bucky jumped out of his chair and bolted for the kitchen. He froze when he hit the doorway, staring in disbelief: Tony had de-aged _again_. He was sitting on the floor, tiny toddler body swimming in the clothes that had been merely baggy on the teenager, starting to cry in panic at the sudden appearance of a strange place.

Bucky wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, himself, as he pulled out his phone to send the team an update and a plea to hurry up with finding that fix.

At least _this_ Tony was going to fight him to stay _out_ of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't post a trigger warning for the possible underage interpretation here because it's the "minor" Tony who's doing all the pushing and though Bucky is tempted, he does resist that temptation and not so much as a kiss actually occurs, but if any readers think I should post it, _please_ let me know and I will do so ASAP.


	6. Prompt: Talent for Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following anonymous prompts:  
> \- _Tony has a surprising talent (cooking, music, etc) that Bucky knows about but the team doesn't. Whether they find out or not is up to you : >_  
> \- _Bucky takes Tony dancing~ (swing, jazz, or w/e!) Though, it would be cool to see the old dance-lovin Bucky Barnes lead Tony in a dance xD_

Bucky was in a good mood. No, a _great_ mood. He'd had a fantastic night's sleep, and it had been most of a week since the last time he'd had anything like a panic attack. He'd woken to find Tony still sleeping, which wasn't unusual, but he loved watching Tony sleep. And then when Tony had begun stirring, Bucky had helped the wake-up process along and they'd stayed in bed for another hour, having the kind of lazy, tender sex that they didn't often have time for. But today they both had the whole day off, which was the sort of miracle that usually only occurred when one or both of them was confined to medical.

Bucky lay on the bed, still damp from the shower and considering their options for the day as he waited for Tony to finish shaving. A faint scent drifted in from downstairs that included not only coffee but _pancakes_ , which meant that Clint was making breakfast. As far as Bucky was concerned, that just put the icing on the cake.

He sat up, feeling happy energy radiating out of him and knowing he couldn't keep still. "I need music, JARVIS," he called. Duke Ellington poured from the speakers, jazzy swing with a bright heartbeat of a rhythm. Bucky laughed and let himself dance a few steps across the room.

Tony came out of the bathroom then and smirked, so Bucky grabbed up Tony's hand and spun him in.

Bucky had intended to just pull Tony in, kiss him, and spin him back out -- Steve had explained that no one really knew how to dance these days, not the way Bucky remembered how to dance -- but Tony didn't let go of Bucky's hand at the end of the spin, so Bucky matched his smirk and kept going.

Much to Bucky's surprise, so did Tony. Bucky blinked in confusion, then narrowed his eyes and stepped up his game a bit.

Tony's smirk turned into a full-on "dare-you" challenge of a grin, and oh, it was _on_. Bucky hadn't danced like this since the war, so he was a touch rusty, but the muscle-memories were still there, and his reflexes had never been sharper. He let the music slide down his spine and into his legs, daring more and more complex steps.

Tony answered every movement with confidence, and if his brows narrowed just slightly in concentration, he kept his eyes focused on Bucky's face instead of having to watch his own feet, and the smile on his face never faltered.

The carpeted floor wasn't ideal for this sort of dancing, but they skipped over anything that needed much of a slide and made it work. When the last chorus came around, Bucky lifted Tony and spun him around, and Tony let it happen, trusting Bucky's strength as he leaned back nearly horizontal and spread his arms, showing off for an invisible audience. Instead of putting Tony back down, Bucky toppled them both onto the bed, grinning as Tony shouted with laughter. "You been holdin' out on me," Bucky said. "Where'd you learn to dance like that?"

"Took a class in college," Tony said, wriggling into a more comfortable position.

"You never did," Bucky said, poking Tony in the ribs. "You were dancing the girl's part."

"Mm," Tony agreed. "Okay, I _was_ in college, but they were private lessons. Rhodey _really_ wanted to impress this girl, so I hired an instructor for him. And I was about the same size as the girl -- hadn't really got in all my growth yet -- so Rhodey talked me into practicing with him. I can lead, too, but I learned the other side first. Glad I remembered how; I haven't danced like that for, god, decades."

Bucky shoved down a faint stab of jealousy. "Why not? You're pretty good."

Tony shrugged. "No one I wanted to dance with. Except Pepper, but she's more of a waltz-and-foxtrot kind of dancer."

Bucky hummed and slid his hand over Tony's skin. It had felt good, pulling on memories and skills that the Winter Soldier had never corrupted. He wondered if there were any modern dances worth learning. "I'll take you dancing," he said. "Can I?"

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, sure. Could be fun. We should practice first, though. I got through that one on nothing but bravado."

"That sounds like fun, too," Bucky said. "But first…" He kissed Tony, slow and deep, until Tony's body melted against his, then pulled back with a satisfied sigh. "Pancakes?"


	7. Prompt: Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Response to a prompt from [iamlucifer2](http://iamlucifer2.tumblr.com/): _bucky having a panic attack and Steve almost getting killed because of it_
> 
> (I want to say THANK YOU for this prompt, because this is a scene I'd been thinking about for _weeks_ , but it was too heavy to drop into a fluff or smut prompt so instead i am hijacking yours for it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild TW on this one for severe PTSD resulting in (more or less) canon-typical violence.

"Captain Rogers, your presence is urgently required in Sergeant Barnes' quarters."

Steve was up and moving before the sentence was even completed, because JARVIS did not use the phrase "urgently required" idly. "What's happened?" he demanded.

"It appears to be an extremely severe anxiety attack," JARVIS responded. "He is in danger of doing himself harm."

"Damn," Steve growled, and increased his pace. "What set it off?"

"Unknown, Captain. He was working on memory recovery, but this is a highly anomalous reaction."

Steve's stomach knotted; it must have been one hell of a memory he'd pulled up out of the sludge this time. "Right. Let Tony know that I'll pass the word as soon as it's safe for him to come up."

"Very good, Captain."

Steve found Bucky on his knees in the center of his living room, pounding his forehead rhythmically against the floor and yanking at his hair, eerily silent. The metal fist trailed several hunks of torn-out hair and there was a bloody smear on the wooden floor.

"Bucky!" Steve gasped. "Bucky, stop, _stop_."

Bucky didn't seem to hear him.

" _Bucky_!" Steve crossed the space between them in two steps and grabbed at Bucky's shoulders, determined to at least stop that damaging rocking.

Bucky let loose a furious roar and snatched at Steve's wrists-- grabbed-- twisted-- _threw--_

The window shattered around Steve in a hail of shards. Steve, spinning midair, caught just a glimpse of Bucky's suddenly-stricken eyes. There might have been a shout, but it was carried away by the wind.

_Irony_ , Steve thought, remembering Bucky fall away from him into ice and snow, still reaching _\--_

_No_.

He flailed for a hold, any purchase. Something scraped at his fingers and he snatched at it, desperate. It sliced viciously into his palm -- the jagged edges of the glass window. It would surely break as his full weight dropped on it, but maybe it would slow him enough to find another hold--

But it held, after all. Because the windows in the tower weren't glass at all. They were a reinforced polymer, and apparently strong enough to support Steve's weight (as long as that weight wasn't applied with all the force of Bucky's inhuman strength). Blood was pouring freely from Steve's hand, sliding down the glass and Steve's arm. It hurt like hell, but between that or an eighty-story drop, there wasn't much choice. He reached up with his other hand to scrabble for a hold, to pull himself up.

A vise closed around his groping wrist -- Bucky's metal hand, Steve saw -- and _heaved_. The jagged pieces of window ripped Steve's shirt, scraped and tore at his skin as he was dragged back through. He couldn't bring himself to care, falling back through the gap and collapsing to the floor, gasping through the adrenaline of terror.

It was a long moment before he could force himself to move again, to turn his head and look at Bucky.

Bucky was curled into a tight ball against the wall, shaking so hard that Steve could _feel_ it echoing through the floor, his breath coming in harsh, choking sobs.

Steve sat up. "Bucky?" Bucky didn't seem to hear him, yet again. "Bucky. Talk to me, pal." Nothing. "Are you even hearing me?" No indication. Steve ripped off an already-torn piece of his shirt and wrapped it around his bleeding hand. "Bucky, I'm going to touch you now, do you understand?"

When Steve's hand landed on his shoulder, Bucky flinched violently, but didn't otherwise react.

Steve decided to take it as progress that he hadn't been thrown off again. He folded himself down next to Bucky, keeping his arm wrapped around Bucky's shoulders.

It seemed like an hour before Bucky's shuddering stopped and he finally moved, though only so far as to reach out with his human hand to grip Steve's nearest limb (his ankle). "Steve, God. _God_ , Steve, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, God."

Steve rubbed circles on Bucky's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, Buck. I'm okay. It was my fault; I knew you were on edge. I shouldn't have touched you without warning."

Bucky let out a frustrated groan. "I'm so broken, Christ, I should just..." Steve wondered how Bucky had meant to end that sentence, and then decided he was probably better off not knowing. Bucky shivered again. "God. How... How bad?"

Steve took stock: The cuts on his torso were all superficial and would be gone by morning. His left wrist was completely circled with a dark bruise from the grip of Bucky's hand, but Steve didn't think any of the bones were broken. Steve unwrapped the hand that had been sliced open. Most of the length of the cut went straight down to the bone, but the bleeding had stopped and the edges were already beginning to pull together. "I'll have to be careful of my hands for a few days," Steve admitted, "but it's not so bad, really." He held his hand out toward Bucky. "You can look, if you want."

Bucky shook his head quickly. "Put me back in lockdown," he mumbled after a few minutes.

"No."

"I threw you out the goddamn window!"

"I mi-- _probably_ would've survived," Steve said, trying to sound like he meant it, as if he hadn't seen his life flash before his eyes in those endless seconds. "Don't think it's that much higher up." Than Bucky's fall from the train, he meant, though he couldn't make the words come out.

Bucky grunted, though, in apparent understanding. "What if it'd been someone else?"

What if it'd been _Tony_ , he meant. "JARVIS calls me first when you're that wound up, Buck, for just that reason."

Bucky let out a few fast, panting breaths, as if the panic were closing in again, but then got it back under control, somehow. "Should still go back in lockdown," he said, and though Steve couldn't see his face, the tone of his voice was plenty to convey the stubborn set of his mouth. "At least for the memory pushes."

Steve sighed. "If it'll make you feel better, Bucky, we'll talk to Bruce about letting you borrow his room." Bucky let out a sigh, then, and let himself lean against Steve's side. "Or," Steve hazarded, "you could take a break from them for a while."

Bucky snorted, or maybe sobbed again. "Don't expect they'll be able to get much worse after this one."

Steve bit his lip. "You want to tell me?"

"No," Bucky said. He never did want to talk about them, so Steve let it go. A few moments later, however, Bucky breathed, "Howard."

Oh.

_Oh_.

"God, no wonder," Steve whispered. He tightened his arm around Bucky's shoulders. Bucky leaned closer and started crying again. Steve bit his lip as he rubbed a hand over Bucky's shaking shoulders, hesitating, then said, "JARVIS, get Tony up here."

" _No!_ " burst out before Steve had even finished saying Tony's name.

"Bucky--"

"No. No, Steve, no, he-- I can't, I--" Bucky's voice was spiraling upward with panic.

Steve grabbed Bucky's shoulders and forced him to look up. "I'm not letting you hide from him, Buck. He _already knows_ , he _already forgave you_ , and he needs you almost as much as you need him."

Bucky's glare was no less fiery for the tears still standing in his eyes. "What happened to me making my own choices?" he demanded.

"You can try to play that card with Tony if you want," Steve said, as if there was any doubt in either of their minds what Tony's answer would be if Bucky tried to tell him to stay away. "But you're not in your right mind just now. I feel okay making that call. Call it a combat order, if it makes you feel better."

"What'd make me _feel better_ is you calling him off before--"

The elevator opened and Tony charged out, pale and determined. He stopped short a few steps into the room, staring at the shattered window, streaked with Steve's now-dried blood. After a few beats, though, his gaze shifted to Steve and Bucky, and he came over to crouch in front of them.

"Are you all right? What happened?" Bucky had taken advantage of Tony's pause to hide his face again, so it was to Steve that Tony looked. Tony put a hand on Bucky's upper arm, ignoring Bucky's flinch.

Steve waited a moment, giving Bucky the chance to answer, knowing he wouldn't. "We had an incident," Steve admitted, as if Tony hadn't already figured that out from the window. "He... remembered. It was, um, your..."

Tony's eyes widened and then squeezed shut briefly, and Steve was guiltly relieved he didn't have to say the rest of it aloud.

Steve started to pull away, to leave them alone, but Tony caught his eye and shook his head quickly. Tony's face was always expressive; he might just as well have said, _Don't go yet, I need your help with this_. Tony's jaw worked and then he put his other hand on Bucky's hair, stroking gently. "Bucky. We talked about this, remember?"

Bucky didn't move, and Tony waited.

Bucky stayed where he was, and Tony waited.

Tony waited, and Steve hadn't thought Tony was _capable_ of this sort of patience.

Tony waited, until Steve wanted to shake him, wanted to demand that someone say _something_ , just to break this silence filled only with jagged, shallow breaths and the wail of wind whipping past the broken window.

Tony waited, and finally Bucky nodded, once.

"Good. Thank you." Tony knelt and scooted closer, until his knees were touching Bucky's. His hand slid down to the back of Bucky's neck, thumb rubbing lightly. "Bucky," Tony said calmly. "Was there anything in that memory that we didn't anticipate?"

Of _course_ Tony had known that memory in particular would be painful when it came back and had tried to do what he could in advance to help soften the blow. Steve bit his lip, and didn't realize he was holding his breath until his lungs started to ache.

Slowly, Bucky shook his head. Tony didn't make a sound, but he sagged as some of the tension left his body. "Okay," Tony said, fighting hard for calm, "okay, okay. I know it's a lot of ugly, _I know_ , and I know you're going to need some time for this one. But I need you to listen to me first: It wasn't you. You didn't want it. You didn't enjoy it. You are not a monster. I am still here. Steve is still here. We are not angry with you. We are not going to leave you. We are not going to punish you."

Tony shot a look at Steve that meant, _He needs to hear it from you, too_. "That's right," Steve agreed. "Nothing's changed, Bucky. You didn't do anything wrong."

Tony took up the thread again, murmuring comfort to Bucky, repeating it all like a mantra, making those very specific promises that made Steve wonder at how Tony had learned to see so deeply into the darkness of Bucky's fears.

Bucky began to lean into Tony's touch, and then he leaned further and further still, and eventually was lying against Tony's chest, Tony's arms wrapped securely around him. Tony continued to repeat the litany of reassurance, but he lifted his eyes to Steve and nodded once: _I've got it now_ , that meant, and _Thank you_.

So Steve gave Bucky's shoulders a last squeeze and said, "I'm gonna let Tony take care of you now, go get Bruce to bandage up this hand proper. I'll see you tomorrow, okay, Buck?"

Bucky nodded. Steve figured that was the most Bucky would be able to manage, tonight, but then Bucky turned his head enough for Steve to see one red-rimmed eye. "Thanks," he whispered, barely loud enough for Steve to hear.

"Any time you need me, pal," Steve whispered. ' _Til the end of the line_ , he meant, and hoped Bucky heard it.


	8. Prompt: Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Response to the following anonymous prompt: _My birthday is coming up soon and everyone I know is asking me what I'd like to do. In the spirit of that thought, I was wondering what Tony or Bucky would want to do for their birthday._
> 
> I hope you had a fantastic birthday, Anon!

"I need you to listen to me," Steve said.

Just to prove that he didn't _always_ need to be pried out of his work with a crowbar, Tony waved away the holoscreens, spun his chair to face Steve, and folded his hands attentively. "I'm listening."

Steve fixed Tony with a stern look, and Tony reflexively wondered what he'd done wrong _this_ time. "Bucky's birthday is next month," Steve said.

"Yes," Tony agreed. "I knew that. I was smack in the middle of the circus that was involved in getting him an official ID, remember? I had to fill out his vital statistics on a terrifying number of forms." He narrowed his eyes. "Did you think I would actually forget my boyfriend's birthday, Rogers?"

"To be fair," Steve said, "you forget lots of things."

Tony started to protest, stopped, and changed his argument to, "Yes, but JARVIS remembers everything for me, so it's all good. JARVIS would not let me forget Bucky's birthday. Though if you're going to be like that, I'm going to tell him to forget _yours_."

Steve grinned. "It's the Fourth of July, Tony. A more stereotypically appropriate birthday never was. I'm pretty sure even you can't forget that."

"Is that a _challenge_?" Tony demanded.

Steve laughed. "No. I didn't actually think you'd forgotten, anyway. I just wanted to… Look, we never had much, before the war. Or, you know, during it. And then… Well. The point is, Bucky's never really had much of a birthday celebration, and I need you to promise you won't… overwhelm him."

Tony harrumphed. "You can't tell me he's _never had a birthday_ and then tell me _not to give him a birthday_ in the same sentence, Steve. That's cruel and unusual punishment."

"I'm not saying _no_ birthday," Steve cajoled. "It's just, you have this… tendency. To, um."

"Pepper told you about the rabbit, didn't she?" Tony grumbled.

"…Yes." Steve fixed Tony with a look that was perilously close to the Captain America Is Disappointed In You look. "If I just had an idea, maybe, of what you had in mind…"

Tony sighed heavily. "Are you going to make me run _everything_ by you first?" he asked. Then, because Steve didn't deny it immediately, he added, "Because birthday sex is pretty much mandatory -- not that I'm complaining! -- and I was thinking about indulging Buck's little kink for--"

And that made Steve raise his hands in surrender and shake his head quickly. "No, nope, okay, you win, I don't want to know!" He backed hastily out of the workshop, ears turning red. "Just don't go overboard, okay?"

Tony pulled his holoscreens back up, mumbling under his breath about _some people_ who had _no faith_ that Tony could learn from past mistakes or who thought that Tony had _no idea_ what made for an appropriate gesture.

Then he had JARVIS cancel a couple of things he might have already ordered.

Just in case.

~#~

There had to be a party, of course. Tony could forgo expensive and extravagant gifts if he absolutely _had_ to, but he was constitutionally incapable of imagining a birthday without a party. But since Bucky was still not that comfortable with large crowds, it was small. Tiny. Miniscule, really -- just the Avengers and what Tony privately thought of as the "extended family". He was proud of himself for controlling his natural impulse toward _more-bigger-better_. For Bucky's sake.

(Tony had failed to consider, however, that even keeping the party to the Avengers family meant that his tower was overrun by a dozen or so superheroes, geniuses, and adrenaline junkies. He was recalled to that fact when Natasha took it on herself to teach Darcy and Pepper how to properly throw knives, and Clint found amusement in shooting the knives out of the air before they could hit the hastily-erected targets. And Steve was not there to help him break that up, because Bruce and Jane had left half an hour earlier in close consultation about some scientific theory that was almost too arcane for even Tony to understand, but when he had worked through the concepts a few minutes later, he'd been drenched in cold sweat and he had begged Steve to _find them and stop them_. With extreme prejudice, if necessary.)

Despite the chaos (or maybe because of it) Bucky seemed utterly delighted and happy with the well-wishes and the gifts, and he was always a bit of a sap about their adopted family (even if he hated to admit it). But sometime in the afternoon, after Tony had finally convinced Natasha to at least confine her instruction to hand-to-hand techniques, and after he'd broken up the contest between Rhodey, Sam, and Thor to see who could catch Clint first after he'd jumped off the balcony, Tony looked around and realized that Bucky had disappeared.

With JARVIS' help, Tony tracked him to an empty, unused room two floors down, leaning against the wall with his arms wrapped around his stomach, staring out the window and shaking minutely. So maybe Steve's point had been valid, after all.

"Babe?"

Bucky looked up. His eyes were wet, but his smile was immediate, and Tony felt one knot of worry unravel.

Bucky held out a hand, and Tony took it, letting Bucky pull him close, and then closer still.

Bucky wound himself around Tony and dropped his forehead to Tony's shoulder, letting out a long sigh. He was still shivering, just a little. Tony wrapped a hand around Bucky's neck, surreptitiously checking his pulse, feeling the rhythm of his breathing. He didn't seem to be suffering from a panic attack, so Tony felt fairly safe asking, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just." Bucky drew a deep breath, nuzzling in close to Tony's neck. "I needed a little quiet so I could... absorb it all."

Tony _hated_ quiet, but he understood the need for space to process a flood of emotion. As long as Bucky wasn't hurting or unhappy, Tony was willing to go along with it. "I can go, if you want to be alone."

Bucky held him tighter. "No, stay." He shuddered, and then went still, even the earlier shivering calmed. "Please."

"Of course." Tony ruffled his fingers through Bucky's hair. "Though if Clint sets something on fire up there, that's on you."

Bucky laughed, so quiet that Tony didn't so much hear it as absorb the vibration of Bucky's chest and feel the puff of warm air against his neck. "Thank you, Tony," Bucky said. "I know you wanted... more, but this is perfect."

Tony hummed contentedly and cuddled closer. "You should probably thank Steve for keeping my unnatural impulses in check."

Bucky laughed again, and kissed the side of Tony's neck. "Maybe. But I'm not in love with Steve."

Tony did not flinch. He did _not flinch_ , or startle, or wince, or have any other reaction except for possibly going completely still.

Somehow, Bucky noticed anyway. His hands slid up to cradle Tony's face, fingers half-buried in Tony's hair as Bucky looked into Tony's eyes. "Meant it," he said. "I love you." Tony still couldn't move. Bucky kissed Tony's forehead. "You don't have to say it back, Tony. It's okay."

That jolted Tony out of his frozen state. "It is _not_ okay, and you know it."

"It really is, because there are plenty of other ways to say it," Bucky countered. "You don't have to use the words."

Tony's chest felt tight, like the arc reactor had suddenly been shoved right back under his sternum. It was stupid. There was nothing rational or logical in this fear, and knowing that did _absolutely nothing_ to stifle Tony's certainty that, now that it had been said aloud, everything,  _everything_ , was about to go up in flames. "Bucky," he said repressively.

"Tony," Bucky mimicked, then set a finger on Tony's lips to stop him from answering. "You do so much for me. You think I don't notice, maybe. You don't want me to notice, maybe. But I do. You make sure I'm safe and comfortable, even when it's not comfortable for you. You let Steve talk you out of big gestures. You let me escape when the feelings are too big, but you never leave me alone."

Tony grimaced, deflecting. "I steal the blankets, and I make you sleep in the wet spot."

"It's a big bed, Tony, I can sleep around the goddamn wet spot. And then you wake me up from the nightmares, and walk me through the panic attacks."

"That's a two-way street," Tony protested.

"Yes," Bucky agreed, and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Because _I love you_. And I don't need you to say the words, because I already know you love me, too."

Tony tried to glare at Bucky, but given that it made no dent whatsoever in Bucky's slightly sappy smile, he was pretty sure the attempt failed miserably. After a long moment, he sighed and leaned his forehead against Bucky's. "I guess I do."

The tight feeling in his chest intensified, and he had to grit his teeth then and spend a few minutes timing each breath. Bucky, as if he understood Tony's terror, didn't say anything else, just held him, breathing slow and steady, giving Tony a pattern to match, and waiting. A few minutes later, Tony noted that the heavens had not immediately opened and snatched Bucky away from him. Tony laid his head on Bucky's shoulder with a sigh. "Of course I do."

Bucky nuzzled Tony's neck and sighed happily. "Best birthday ever."


	9. Prompt: Dating Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to this prompt from AO3 user KSL: _You've done Bucky taking Tony out on a date...and had Tony thinking about where he'd take Bucky, but i'd like to actually see him take Bucky on a date. What would you do to impress/entertain/delight the Winter Soldier? He doesn't come across quite as nostalgic as Steve, but then Bucky got to see a bit of the time Steve was frozen for. Even with his memory wiped after each mission he had to have some sense of the passage of time and advances in technology. So would he be more interested in modern things---clearly he is in your stories, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't enjoy or hunger for a touch of the past, a bit which is familiar and at the same time not._

It was harder than Tony had expected to figure out how to take Bucky out on a date.

The first one that went badly was the time Tony pulled out all the stops. (Well, not _all_ , but _some_.) It seemed to go great at the time, but then Bucky spent the next two days locked in his apartment in a black funk, refusing to come out or talk to anyone until finally Natasha bullied her way into his room.

Several hours later, she came down to Tony's workshop and said, "He's coming around. Keep giving him his space and _don't mention it_ when he comes back." Then, while Tony was still in the first flush of relief and gratitude, she gave him a look that meant she was about to break bad news as gently as she could. "You need to dial down the extravagance, Tony. Dial it down a _lot_. The jet and the private beach and everything else just overwhelmed him. I know you want to sweep him off his feet, but... I know you're trying to make him feel cherished, and that's sweet, but when you throw that much money at it, it just makes him feel _kept_." She put her hand on his shoulder, an apology.

That hurt, because Tony genuinely enjoyed giving things to the people he cared about, and he'd never once thought of it as trying to buy affection. But like most of Natasha's observations, it made a certain sense.

So after that, he tried to rein in his impulses. The first date Tony planned after the disaster, he deliberately slummed it by taking Bucky to an open-market concert/street fair.

It was more crowded than Tony had thought it would be, and Bucky spent the night in a state approaching hypervigilance and refused to let Tony leave his side for even a moment, but he seemed to be having fun anyway, and refused every suggestion that they leave early. To give him some time to settle after they finally left the fair, Tony took him to dinner (so late, by then, that it was almost breakfast) at a tiny, hole-in-the-wall diner. They sat in the corner booth for hours, drinking surprisingly good coffee and trading bites of each other's food and, eventually, watching the street outside come to life as the sun came up.

That one turned out _very_ well, as it happened: they were too tired to even think about sex when they got home, but Bucky spent the whole next day swaggering and flirting and watching Tony with smoldering eyes until Steve rolled his eyes and took Bucky off the patrol roster for that night. Clint bitched and groaned about things he didn't want to know, but Tony had long since learned the difference between Clint actually being put off by something and Clint pretending to be irritated because he was an emotional adolescent who couldn't just admit that he liked it when his friends were happy, so the next time Clint walked by them, Tony dipped Bucky into a very promising sort of kiss just to hear Clint squawk indignantly. Natasha laughed and smiled proudly at them both.

It was hard to hold back all the time, but after some prodding from Natasha (at both of them) to actually talk things over, and a few careful experiments, Tony began to build some workable rules. No jets and no boats, but Bucky did like to go driving in one of Tony's nice cars. No surprise vacations, but if Tony checked with him first, he would sometimes agree to a modest trip. Bucky was appalled at the cost of live entertainment like plays and concerts, but he eventually agreed to just let that be one of Tony's things, the way going out dancing had become one of Bucky's things.

They both liked going to the movies, but those were more team outings than dates, as often as not, even if Bucky refused to share his popcorn with anyone but Tony. Tony took him to an antique car show once, almost half as a joke, but Bucky _loved_ it.

Bucky was addicted to food trucks, and the more weirdly upscale the food was, the more he loved them. But if Tony took him to a nice restaurant, Bucky started hyperventilating as soon as he saw the prices on the menu. Tony was about ready to write off fine dining entirely until as a last resort he took Bucky to a _really_ high-end place -- the sort of place where they didn't put the prices on the menus at all, because if you needed to know before you ordered, then you needed to eat elsewhere -- and Bucky was surprisingly okay with that.

But he still preferred the shady all-night diners.


	10. Prompts: Armed Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following prompts:
> 
> \- from AO3 user KSL: _Which actually brings me to another thought...the arm he had when Steve finds him couldn't have been the first he was given. There had to be others as technology advanced. Can't imagine getting any of them was painless or pretty. Or that they all worked as well as the one Tony ultimately makes for him. But I'd like to see Bucky remembering them in some fashion...maybe comparing them to his recent one. Learning to use them, dealing with the phantom pain that he had to have experienced at least in the beginning of not still having it._  
>  \- from anonymous: _Love your writing! How about something with the IM Suit? You know in the deleted scene of Iron Man 2 when Natasha is playing with the suit arm attached to Tony at Tony's Birthday? What about something where Tony lets Bucky have a go with shooting the arm or flying with the boots ala IM 1 tests? I think it'd appeal to the inner young man that thought a Science Fair was a good place for a double date! Plus Tony loves to show off! Love this universe, hope you love writing it just as much :D_

Tony was talking a million miles an hour, as usual. Bucky couldn't tune him out completely, because some of what Tony was saying was important and useful, like how to engage the targeting system and how to adjust the force used to fire the repulsors. (Bucky had never realized just how _complicated_ operating the Iron Man armor was, and this was just _one gauntlet_. His respect for Tony's brilliance and competence under fire just kept growing.)

On the other hand, a lot of what Tony was saying was pure nonsense, at least to Bucky, explanations for why he'd made the engineering decisions he had, or descriptions of the various technologies used, and none of that was remotely useful to anyone who wasn't going to try to actually build a suit.

But finally, Tony wound down the lecture. "Ready to give it a try?" he asked, his eyes bright.

"Absolutely," Bucky said with a grin. He lifted the gauntlet (it was a lot heavier than it looked) and aimed it downrange. "JARVIS, pop up a target for me. Something easy for a first fire, just so I can get a feel for it."

"Certainly, sir," JARVIS said, and Bucky heard the machinery of the target range kick into motion. "And may I congratulate you on your studious and reasoned approach. If I was not already aware of the futility of such an act, I would prevail upon you to inform Mr. Stark of the benefits of your method."

Bucky snorted and Tony muttered dire threats against the AI that none of them believed. Bucky moved his index finger to adjust the power level, took aim, and then curled his fingertips.

Nothing happened.

"Uh, boss? It didn't fire. Is there a safety on this that you didn't mention?"

"What?" Tony frowned at the gauntlet. "Oh! Oh, right, this is the Mark-52, you have to have the full arm extended to fire repulsors."

"Why would you do that?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. So to extend the full arm, you... Crap, you don't have the nanobundles. Okay, I'll do it for you. Don't move." Tony stood behind Bucky, his chest pressing against Bucky's back, and stretched out his arm. He lined up their elbows, and twined their fingers together. Bucky couldn't feel it through the gauntlet, but it made him feel warm anyway. Tony kissed the back of his neck, and that was nice, too, but Bucky squelched his reaction. He'd been begging Tony to let him fire the armor ever since he'd found out Natasha had tried it once, and he damn well wasn't going to get sidetracked _now_.

"Here we go," Tony said, and flexed the muscles of his arm.

The gauntlet... unfolded, was the only word Bucky could think of to describe it, and no wonder it had felt so heavy, if it had been carrying all these additional pieces that were sliding into place up his arm.

When it finished, Bucky held out both of his arms, meaning to make some kind of smartass comment about how they were both metal, now (one silver and one red), but it slid away with the wash of dizziness and nausea that accompanied many of the Winter Soldier's memories.

_"--adjustment period while the neural pathways adapt to the interface." The operative was not speaking to the Soldier, because the Soldier was only just beginning to waken, still strapped to the revivification table, and the words were neither a command nor a clarification of mission parameters._

_"How long? The ambassador will only be here for a week." The Soldier's left shoulder began to tingle, and then to prickle with swiftly-increasing intensity._ Pins-and-needles _, some echo of a shadow of a memory whispered in his thoughts, in a language entirely different from that being spoken by the operatives._

_"A couple of days at most." The electricity in the Soldier's shoulder crackled, shooting painfully down his arm. That was wrong. Wasn't it? The Soldier did not have an arm on that side, had not even had ghost pain for the arm since-- More pain, this time between his temples. There is no remembering, he remembered. He must not try to remember._

_The Soldier did not have a left arm._

_It continued to hurt anyway. The pain grew stronger, sharper._

_When it did not interfere with the mission, the Soldier knew, pain must be reported lest the Soldier's efficiency be permanently affected. There was no mission to be compromised, but there also was no arm. Did protocol demand he report pain in a limb that did not exist?_

_The pain spiked, and the Soldier grunted involuntarily. The operatives ceased their conversation and looked at him. The Soldier decided to report. "Pain, level 8, left arm," he reported. "Potential for permanent damage. Advise submit to medical for repair."_

_One of the operatives stepped forward. "There is no damage," he said firmly. "The pain is a side effect of a repair and upgrade, and you are already in medical. There is no need to report pain status for the next forty-eight hours."_

_"Understood," the Soldier acknowledged, as he must, but the end of the word trailed up into a whine as fire began to crawl down into fingertips he no longer had._

_The operative's mouth thinned, watching as the Soldier's reactions to the still-increasing pain became more and more pronounced. He huffed in annoyance and turned to the other operative. "Get the bite guard and some more straps."_

"--out of it. Come on, come back to me."

English. That was English, not Russian, and Bucky clung to it, swimming up out of darkness. He was on his knees, eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched so tightly on a scream that his jaw ached. His shoulder and arm were on fire--

Except they weren't, not any more.

There was a warm hand on his good shoulder, thumb rubbing over the curve soothingly. Bucky swallowed, forced his jaw to unlock. "S-Steve?"

The touch on his shoulder stuttered a bit. "Tony," came the correction. "But I can get Steve for you, if you want him." Tony hesitated. "Do you know me?"

Bucky didn't, and then he did. He opened his eyes. Tony was kneeling beside him, brow furrowed with worry. "Yes," he gasped, and all but fell into Tony's arms. "Tony, God."

"You're okay," Tony promised, hands running over Bucky's neck and shoulders and arms, soothing and grounding him. "I've got you."

Tony kept talking, rattling nonsense like he always did, and the sounds were as comforting as the touch, a new-familiar to cling to while he shook off the shards of the memory. Bucky turned his face in toward Tony's neck, too, to let Tony's scent surround him as well.

After a few moments, he sighed and straightened, though he kept one hand on Tony's leg, needing the connection.

On Tony's other side was the gauntlet Bucky had been wearing, looking like it had been ripped open. Bucky lurched forward. "Shit, I broke it. Oh, geez, Tony, I'm sorry, I--"

"Hey, no," Tony interrupted quickly. "No, it's fine, you didn't break anything. It just opened on emergency release. Look!" He laid his own wrist against the glove and it folded around his hand and began to crawl up his arm. "See? It's all in working order."

Bucky slumped with a sigh. "Okay. Good. Good." He watched as the metal finished closing around Tony's arm and shuddered. "Think I'm gonna... gonna have to take a rain check on trying it out myself, though."

Tony put his un-armored hand over Bucky's and squeezed lightly. "Yeah. That's absolutely fine. Entirely up to you."


	11. Prompts: Shovel Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to two different prompts from [goldenbluedeath](http://goldenbluedeath.tumblr.com):  
> \- _...if you still want more prompts, I think i'll swoon if you write Bucky's reaction to finding out about Tony's arc reactor. Really, all of Iron Man 1 would be pretty hard to watch, for a bf. Anyway, thank you and much love!! :D_  
>  \- _Omg! I forgot! Shovel talk!! That and Clint & Tony brotp!! Oh man, write that and I'll just about love you forever (not that I don't already)._
> 
> Probably not what you had in mind, but this is Clint having Tony's back and giving Bucky a shovel talk, since Steve's already done his version.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that these fics are not necessarily in chronological order. Especially this one.

**_(Takes place a few months after the events of M &T)_ **

 

Bucky checked the safety, slotted a fresh clip, and glanced sideways at Clint. Clint had already nocked an arrow and was waiting. "Ready?"

"Yup." They both aimed down the range. "Give us a countdown, JARVIS."

The countdown flashed: 3 -- 2 -- 1 -- and then targets began to appear all along the length of the range. Bucky could shoot much faster than Clint could draw and fire, but Clint was using his full arsenal of trick arrows, so he could disable multiple targets with a single shot much more often than Bucky.

Some of the targets represented capture targets that shouldn't be killed, or civilians that shouldn't be harmed at all, and Bucky was still a bit out of practice with anything other than "kill everything dead" missions, so he was a bit slower than Clint at making those judgments. But to balance that, Clint's shoulder was still not quite fully healed yet, though it was nearly there; Clint healed fast for a baseline human. All in all, Bucky thought it was a pretty even match.

When the targets faded and JARVIS announced the scores, Bucky's estimation was borne out: Clint had won the match, but only by a narrow margin. Bucky had disabled more targets, Clint had a slight edge on him in accuracy, and Bucky had lost some points for kill-shots on a couple of capture-only targets. Bucky was pleased to see he hadn't hit any of the civilians this time, at least; there had been a flurry toward the middle of the match where things had been moving so fast that he hadn't entirely trusted his reactions.

Clint waited until Bucky had set the safety and unloaded his clip before stepping over the line into the range to retrieve his arrows. "You and Tony seem to be doing pretty good," he said.

"Mmhm," Bucky agreed absently, stowing the gear in the ammo locker and trying to decide what he wanted to pull for the obstacle course. "Thought you didn't want to hear about our sex life."

"I'm not talking about the sex," Clint said. "Keep that shit as far from me as possible." Bucky grinned, because Clint bitched a lot about displays of affection, but never left the room or even averted his face. "I'm talking about, you know, the whole _relationship_ thing."

"Tell me _you_ are about to try to offer relationship advice," Bucky scoffed. "You have all the emotional stability of an eight-year-old."

"I wouldn't call it advice," Clint said, and there was an edge to his voice that made Bucky turn around to look at him. Clint's eyes were focused tight on Bucky, and it was all Bucky could do not to step back. They called him Hawkeye for a reason, and it was anything but comfortable to be pinned by that sharp gaze. It felt like Clint could see right into the dark places of Bucky's soul.

When Clint spoke, however, his voice was calm and easy. "Let's just go ahead and call it a shovel talk."

Bucky shrugged, pretending nonchalance. "Steve already gave me one, you know."

"No," Clint said. "Steve warned you that Tony was more fragile than he lets on and gave you the Captain America face until you promised to act like a responsible human being, and then he gave pretty much the same exact speech to Tony. And you know Steve wouldn't actually hurt either of you, no matter how much of an asshole you were. He'd just look disappointed."

"That's bad enough. So you feel I haven't had my life properly threatened?" Bucky leaned against his storage locker and crossed his arms. "I have to admit, if I was still due for a shovel talk, I wouldn't have expected it to come from you. Bruce, maybe. He and Tony are pretty tight."

"Bruce doesn't like to threaten people," Clint said. "Even if they deserve it."

"How do I deserve this?" Bucky demanded. "You just said we were doing _well_."

Clint... smiled. Technically, it was a smile. Bucky had been the most feared assassin in the goddamn _world_ for over fifty years, and Clint's smile, right now, was not anything that Bucky wanted to be on the wrong side of. "You're getting it now," Clint said, voice still calm and reasonable, "because you've been together long enough to know that this is not a casual fling."

"We've known that for a while," Bucky agreed. "But that doesn't mean... Put your cards on the damn table, Clint. I thought we were friends."

"We are," Clint said. "That's why you're getting a warning at all. I know it seems like Tony and I aren't close, because we mostly just talk a lot of shit at each other. But that's just how we operate, because Tony doesn't like to admit that he cares. And most of the time, neither do I. But Tony brought us here, to the tower, Nat and me. He barely knew me, and he had _every_ reason not to trust Nat, and he brought us here anyway. He redesigned whole sections of the tower for us, like this range. He doesn't like to admit it, and I mostly don't like to acknowledge it, but he cares about us. He trusts us. The _real_ us, not a cover we built to game him."

Clint looked away, finally, and it felt like a physical release, even if Bucky knew Clint was still watching him from the side of his eyes. "Afghanistan and then Stane should have killed every last bit of trust in him, Bucky, but they didn't. Most people don't get that, about him: Tony's strength has always been his heart, not his brain. Even when he had to install a god damn reactor in his chest to keep it going."

Bucky got the message, he really did: _do not betray the trust that has been betrayed so many times before_. But his brain snagged on the rest of Clint's words. "Install a _what_ in his chest?"

Clint looked at him again, frowning. "The arc reactor," he said, and then, when Bucky didn't seem to get it, "You... haven't you seen it?"

Bucky shook his head. "I've seen the goddamn huge scar in the middle of his chest. But he didn't seem to want to talk about it, so..."

Clint leaned against the wall. "But you do know about Afghanistan and Stane, right?"

Bucky grimaced. "Some. Mostly just what's public knowledge, and what little I catch when he... dreams." Which wasn't much. Tony's nightmares resulted mostly incoherent noise and flailing. And the things he said when he first woke up, before he was entirely present again, didn't make a lot of sense.

"Fuck," Clint groaned. "Okay. Sit down, I'm going to start at the beginning and make sure you've got all the salient points."

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "If he doesn't want to tell me--"

"Have you _asked_?"

Bucky hesitated, trying to remember if he had. "I'm... I don't think so."

"Sit. Down," Clint repeated. "I'm not going to tell you anything that everyone else on the team doesn't already know, okay? And you should still ask him, for a bunch of different reasons. But I'm going to give you the basic rundown." Clint stared at Bucky until Bucky finally slid to the floor, and then his gaze shifted to the wall just over Bucky's head and he started talking, reciting facts in dry, sparse detail, as if he was reading them out of a debrief report.

By the time Clint wrapped it up, Bucky was grateful Clint had insisted he sit down, because he could feel himself shaking. The Winter Soldier was pressing hard into him, making demands that Bucky couldn't deny. "So Stane is dead," he rasped. "What happened to the Ten Rings cell?"

"Dead," Clint answered readily. "Most of them from either Iron Man's actions or Stane's retribution."

"And the rest?" Bucky demanded.

"SHIELD sent Nat and me to investigate after Iron Man's appearance in Gulmira. It's why we weren't on Phil's team when Stane made his move with the Iron Monger -- we were still in Afghanistan, tracking down leads on Raza's few remaining goons."

"And?"

Clint rubbed a thumb over the curve of his bow, and that cold smile was something Bucky could really enjoy when it wasn't directed at him. "Tragically, they did not survive interrogation." Behind Bucky's eyes, the Winter Soldier purred with satisfaction and subsided a little.

Bucky almost wished it hadn't backed off, though, because now he had to think about Tony with an electromagnet and an arc reactor embedded in his body. Now he had to think about Tony enduring torture. He had to think about Tony being forced to confront evil and betrayal and still more evil. Now that the Winter Soldier wasn't pushing at him, he had to feel his own rage and fear, a sickening swirl in his stomach.

He stood up. "I'm. I'm gonna go, uh."

"Go give your boy a hug?" Clint suggested. He was cleaning his bow, not looking at Bucky, but he wasn't smirking, because Clint had Tony's back. "Go do that. And remember--"

"You've got a shovel, right." Bucky thought about that. He paused at the door and looked back. "You were really supposed to kill the Black Widow?"

Clint nodded, pointing an arrow shaft downrange and sighting along it. "She was a loose cannon. SHIELD wanted her out of the picture."

"And you could've done it? If you hadn't brought her in, instead?"

Clint slanted a smile at him. "Had her in my sights for two days before I made up my mind. She doesn't like to admit it, but she didn't spot me until the second day."

The Winter Soldier stirred: _query/threat/target?_ Bucky considered Clint's clear blue eyes. _No_ , he thought, slotting it home in terms the Winter Soldier would accept: _ally/second line of defense._

Bucky nodded and left. It was good to know that Tony had friends who would step forward to protect him. Even from Bucky, if it came to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 7/23/14: Tiny post-chapter scene [posted to my tumblr](http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com/post/92651026837/someone-sends-the-tape-of-tonys-time-in-afganistan-and)!


	12. Prompts: Tony H/C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following prompts:  
> \- [askusanythingavengers](http://askusanythingavengers.tumblr.com/): _For the M & T short scenes could you do one where Tony does get hurt but like Winter doesn't come out cuz he doesn't have to cuz Bucky's mad enough he just shoots the guy an then sits with Tony til he wakes up in the hospital?_  
> \- [Diva1996](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Diva1996): _I would love to see Tony getting injured and he ends up in the infirmary. Bucky rushes to be with Tony but he is restrained from entering his hospital room and Bucky then proceeds to totally lose his shit! Extra cool if that prompts the brief return of the Winter Soldier._  
>  \- anonymous: _I would love to see how Bucky reacts to Tony getting seriously injured on a mission (or what have you)._  
>  \- [flytoinfinityx](http://flytoinfinityx.tumblr.com/): _prompt where tony is seriously hurt? (:_
> 
> Man, y'all _seriously_ have it in for poor Tony!!! ;-)

When the EMP hit and Iron Man's repulsors failed, Bucky's heart stuttered. "Tony! You okay?"

Tony didn't answer, because of course the EMP had taken out the comms, too. Stupid.

The Falcon had been hit, too. The wings had frozen open the way Tony had designed them to do, and Sam was gliding groundward in apparent safety, but without power there was no way Sam could reach Tony in time to stop or even slow the fall. And no one else was close enough. A goon was taking aim at Sam, so Bucky shot him, his eyes already turning back toward Iron Man. _Goddammit, Tony…_

Bucky unconsciously braced for the impact. Tony must have still been awake in the suit, though, because he tucked and rolled just like it was one of Steve's training exercises. He hit hard, tearing up the concrete and leaving gleaming bits of armor behind.

Bucky forced himself to start breathing again and jumped down to the fire escape below, scaling down the building as quickly as he could.

He'd just hit the ground when the suit fell open and Tony sat up. Bucky nearly sobbed in relief, but didn't slow down. The fight was nearly over, but Tony would need help getting back to the jet.

Tony spotted Bucky and gave a little wave, then carefully clambered to his feet. He was favoring his right leg and his left arm hung like the shoulder had been dislocated, but like the stubborn asshole he was, he started limping toward Bucky instead of just staying put.

Dimly, Bucky registered the sound of an ambulance siren a few blocks away, and then Tony's torso erupted in a spray of red. His eyes widened and he stumbled on his bad leg. Someone shouted.

There was a man with a gun behind Tony, adjusting his aim toward Bucky, now.

Bucky shot the man between the eyes, not slowing from his flat-out run. Even before the man began to fall, his neck sprouted an arrow, and another bullet hole appeared at his temple.

Tony was flat on his stomach, not moving as Bucky skidded to the pavement beside him. "Tony!" Bucky ripped open the bloody back of Tony's shirt. The entrance wound was neat and small, just to the right of Tony's spine. Six inches left and it would've been a perfect heart shot. Bucky rolled him over, leaned close.

Blood was still pumping out of the ugly exit wound. There was no sign of shrapnel. Bucky gritted his teeth and pushed the ruins of Tony's shirt over the wound to slow the flow.

Tony's heart was still beating, but Christ -- _Christ_ \-- he was barely breathing, his skin pale and clammy.

Bucky put his head down close to Tony's chest. The shallow breaths were wet and burbling.

Footsteps, running closer. "Shit, _shit_ , is he--" Clint.

"Heart's still going. Get the fucking ambulance _now_ ," Bucky growled. The footsteps retreated again, sprinting as hard as Clint could run. Bucky leaned hard on the wound and counted Tony's shallow breaths.

"Don't you dare give up on me now, boss. Don't you _dare_ , you understand me? Come on, Tony, wake up just a little bit. Let me know you're still in there. Tony? _Tony_. I know it hurts but you can do it."

The ambulance and the medics arrived, and Bucky let them shoulder him aside to work.

"How bad?" Steve's hand covered Bucky's shoulder. The fight must be over now, he dimly thought.

"Not sure," Bucky rasped, not taking his eyes off Tony's motionless form. "Through and through, but it tore up the lung something fierce. Lotta blood lost. Plus whatever the fall did."

Steve squeezed gently. "Tony's tough. He'll pull through."

"Maybe." The medics were sliding Tony onto a carryboard now, strapping him down. Bucky and Steve followed them to the ambulance.

When Bucky started to climb in after them, one of the medics blocked his way. "I'm sorry, sir. You can meet us at the hospital."

The Winter Soldier poured into Bucky's veins in a burst of cold. "No. He is mine to protect." He grabbed at the door, but Steve pulled him back. Clint started cursing.

The Winter Soldier hesitated: Steve, also, must be protected. But Steve was keeping him from Tony. Why?

"Get going," Steve snapped at the medic, taking advantage of the Winter Soldier's hesitation to get a firmer grip. " _Go now_!"

The ambulance began to pull away even before the doors had slammed shut. The ambulance held Tony. Tony, who could easily die from the damage sustained.

Tony, who _must be protected_.

The Winter Soldier twisted hard against Steve's grip, but he couldn't free himself without hurting Steve.

Steve, who _must be protected_.

"Bucky," Steve said. "Jesus. Come on, Buck, snap out of it. They're going to do everything they can to help him. He's as safe as he can be, I promise." Steve's eyes were blue like an autumn sky, determined and angry. The Winter Sold-- Buck-- the Sol-- _Bucky_ had always trusted those eyes.

Not the words, because Steve would absolutely lie when it suited his purpose. But Bucky trusted that resolute _purpose_. Trusted that Steve would lead him where he needed to be. He shivered off the tendrils of cold and sagged in Steve's grip. "Okay," he growled. "Okay. I'm back. But if you don't get me to the goddamn hospital within thirty seconds of that ambulance…"

Steve held him a moment longer, wary, then released him. "Go with Nat," he said. "The rest of us will clean up here and then join you."

***

Bucky did not usually think of Tony as a small man. He was only an inch or so shorter than Bucky, and while his muscle was more wiry than bulky, Tony inhabited his own space with confidence and self-possession. He was rarely the biggest man in the room -- but he was usually one of the largest.

Now, though, lying pale and unmoving in the hospital bed, Tony seemed impossibly small and frail. The tubes and wires attached to his body made him look like a child's puppet that had been abandoned and left to sprawl on the floor.

Bucky held Tony's hand -- the one that didn't have an IV shunt in it -- and stroked Tony's palm and fingers lightly. He had run out of words a couple of days ago, but he couldn't stop touching. He had long since memorized every callus, every wrinkle, every scar on Tony's limp hand.

The doctors had promised that Tony was stable now and recovering, but Bucky still had trouble believing it. He hadn't left the hospital room since they'd brought Tony back from surgery. The first time a nurse had tried to tell him that visiting hours were over, the Winter Soldier had nearly climbed back into his skin. It was a good thing Natasha had been there with him; she'd managed to stall the Soldier and arrange something with the hospital. No one had tried to make Bucky leave Tony's side since. He would have to find some way to thank her, later. And the others, as well, who took turns bringing Bucky food and sitting vigil with him during visiting hours.

It was late, now. The halls were as quiet as hospital halls ever got, and it had been nearly four days since Bucky had last slept. He scooted his chair even closer to the bed and folded his arms on the mattress by Tony's hip. He put his head down and then moved Tony's hand so it was resting on Bucky's head. With his eyes closed, he could almost -- _almost_ \-- pretend that they were at home, dozing on the couch while half-watching some droning documentary.

Bucky swallowed past the lump in his throat. He wanted to go _home_. It wouldn't be home without Tony, though. Bucky rolled his head a little so it would feel like Tony's limp hand was stroking his hair, but he couldn't quite make himself believe that illusion. He swallowed hard again and went still, listening.

He isolated the various noises of the machines -- beeps and ticks and whooshes and hisses and clicks -- and pushed them away, forcing his exhausted mind to _focus_ , to dial in on _Tony's_ sounds. The uneven, shallow rasp of his breathing. The occasional quiet gurgle of his stomach. The steady, slow thump of his heart.

The heartbeat was soothing, and Bucky clung to it, thinking of nights spent with his head nestled in the hollow of Tony's shoulder, or Tony's head on his shoulder and Tony's pulse under his fingertips, that same steady rhythm lulling him to sleep...

Tony's hand slipped, sliding off Bucky's hair. Groggily, eyes still closed, Bucky reached up, groping for Tony's wrist so he could put it back. He found Tony's hand and slid his fingers over Tony's knuckles.

Tony's hand turned over and closed on Bucky's hand. Heart suddenly racing, not wanting to risk hope, Bucky opened his eyes. Tony's hand _was_   moving, slowly and clumsily lacing their fingers together.

Bucky lifted his head. Tony's eyes were closed, but Bucky thought his color might have improved. He glanced at the clock. It said he'd been asleep for a couple of hours, and the crick in his neck agreed. Bucky looked back down at Tony's hand, fingers still feebly moving. "Tony?" he whispered.

Bucky gently squeezed Tony's hand, stroked his thumb over Tony's skin. "You in there, boss?"

A furrow appeared between Tony's brows. Bucky held his breath and waited.

The furrow deepened, and then suddenly Bucky was looking into warm brown eyes. Tony's gaze flitted around the room, then returned to Bucky's face. Under the oxygen mask, Tony's lips curved into a small smile, and Tony's hand squeezed Bucky's back, weakly.

Bucky returned the smile and let out a shaky sigh. "Tony."


	13. Prompt: Language Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Response to a prompt from [coconutice22](http://coconutice22.tumblr.com/): _Bucky and Tony are surprised and happy to find out they both speak Russian._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am neither masochist nor sadist enough to translate all the Russian and then make you all look it up, just assume that everything in **bold** is actually in Russian, okay? Okay. :-)

Russian had a very different cadence to it than English. It was unmistakable, really, even if Bucky couldn't make out the words from so far away. Even if whatever Natasha was saying was interrupted and punctuated by her being in the midst of what sounded like a sparring match.

It tickled Bucky's ears, made him curious, so he detoured his trip to the kitchen and headed for the gym instead.

" **...high strike to your left,** " Natasha said, followed by the slapping sound of a punch being blocked. " **Good!** " she said, her tone warm with approval. " **Very good! Crescent kick from the right.** "

Bucky frowned, hesitated, and crept closer.

" **Combination now,** " she warned. " **Left, leg sweep, high-right, low-left.** "

Bucky's ears collected a block, a scuff of shoes accompanied by a soft _whoosh_ \-- she wasn't pulling her attacks much, even if she was broadcasting them for reasons Bucky didn't understand -- another block, and a meaty thud that was almost certainly _not_ a block.

"Ow, fuck!" Tony yelped.

_Tony?_ Startled, Bucky looked around the doorway.

Tony and Natasha were in the boxing ring. Natasha looked as cool as ever, but they'd apparently been at it for a while, because Tony was rumpled and sweat-soaked. Clint was sitting on the sidelines, elbows resting on his knees and watching intently. None of them seemed to notice Bucky.

"What the hell was that?" Tony whined, rubbing at his left arm gingerly.

Natasha didn't answer. " **Language,** " Clint prompted with a chuckle.

Tony flailed his arms, exasperated, and pointed at Natasha. " **You said low-left!** "

Tony spoke a _lot_ of languages, Bucky knew. He was fluent in Italian, French, and German. He could get by reasonably well in Spanish, and he had enough Farsi and Japanese to keep the translaters honest. But up to now, Bucky had been reasonably sure that Tony didn't know any Russian, Ukranian, or any other Slavic languages beyond what was necessary to place an order for pierogi.

Natasha smiled and flexed her fingers. " **I did say that. But you are paying too much attention to the words and not enough to what I am telling you.** "

Tony grumbled. " **I asked for language help, Natalia. You're the one who wanted to combine it with sparring.** " His accent was thicker than Clint's but not entirely terrible.

" **Because you don't know a language until you can hear it without _listening_ to it, Tosha. You know the words, but you're still thinking about them so much that you're not paying attention to what I'm _doing_.** "

" **I've only been at this for a few weeks,** " Tony hedged.

Natasha snorted and held up her fists again. " **You're a genius** ," she pointed out. " **By next week, I'll have you talking upgrades with Clint while while we spar. Come on, Tosha, another round. Pay attention this time.** "

Tony sighed heavily and lifted his guard.

Clint finally spotted Bucky and his eyes widened. He glanced at Tony, then smirked and raised his eyebrows at Bucky, challenging.

Bucky looked at Tony and Natasha dancing around each other in the ring, then grinned and shook his head at Clint. Whatever Tony's reason for learning Russian, Bucky was pretty Tony had some sort of plan for letting him know about it. He was willing to wait and see.


	14. Prompts: Latveria Trip part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following prompts:
> 
>   * anonymous: It would be awesome if we got to see something from the winter soldier's point of view and how much he loves tony and wants to keep him safe no matter what
>   * anonymous: how about a situation where Tony and the Winter Soldier are interacting, maybe (and I have no idea how you could do it) go on a date? Or maybe the Winter Soldier comes on in the middle of Tony and Bucky having sex?
>   * [kisariiem](http://kisariiem.tumblr.com/): how about something with more interactions between the Winter Soldier and Tony? Like Tony gets threatened and out comes the Winter Soldier? Or what would a conversation be between the Winter Soldier and Tony?
>   * anonymous: So I may have a slightly NSFW prompt for you here! I was wondering whether we could maybe get a little fully clothed frottage going on?
> 


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place shortly after [Chapter 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1867764/chapters/4086870).
> 
> ***
> 
> **Disclaimer/Note:** I get a _lot_ of requests for Winter Soldier, and I swear I'm trying to work with them, but I feel like there's some stuff I should maybe clarify.
> 
> In this universe, the Winter Soldier isn't actually its own separate personality (even though Bucky thinks of it that way). The Winter Soldier is a set of skills pertaining to stealth and/or combat situations, starting with the ability to completely suppress all emotional input (and any physical input that doesn't immediately affect the mission at hand). Additionally, the Winter Soldier programming is _mostly_ under Bucky's control by the end of M &T -- the only time it comes out without his express permission is when Bucky subconsciously knows that he needs to ignore his own emotions or physical drives (which _usually_ translates to Bucky being too angry, frightened, or injured to deal with the situation).
> 
> That all adds up to the fact that it's more or less impossible for me to write about the Winter Soldier's feelings, because he doesn't really have any -- at best, he's got missions that have been extrapolated from Bucky's feelings. It's also pretty hard for me to put the Winter Soldier into a sexual situation, because Bucky wants his emotions for that!
> 
> All of which is a really long way for me to say -- I'm _really_ sorry if this doesn't live up to your hopes for those sorts of prompts.

The flight from New York to Latveria took about eight hours on the Stark Industries private jet. There was no flight attendant, and Bucky wondered a couple of times whether Tony had dismissed the flight crew because he was already planning to seduce Bucky midflight, or if he'd merely taken advantage of the unexpected relative privacy.

His curiosity didn't extend to actually asking Tony about it, though, not when Tony was putting his mouth to better use than answering questions Bucky didn't really care about that much anyway. Especially when Bucky knew he was going to have to retreat behind the Winter Soldier for the duration of their trip to make sure Tony got the best protection possible.

When they were both worn out, Bucky insisted on a nap (since the Winter Soldier was unlikely to sleep much, if at all). Then after they woke up, because Tony could be serious when he had to be, they spent an hour or so going over the plan (such as it was) and discussing various situations and contingencies.

About the time that was done, the pilot came over the intercom to announce that they were half an hour from landing.

Tony grinned and climbed onto Bucky's lap, straddling his thighs. "Last chance to make out before we're surrounded by spies and have to behave for three whole days."

Bucky laughed and settled his hands on Tony's hips. "When do you ever behave?"

"As infrequently as possible." Tony admitted, then leaned in to take a kiss that Bucky willingly surrendered. "But you're going to make it hard on me, this trip," Tony continued eventually, mumbling as he nibbled his way along Bucky's jaw.

Bucky tipped his head to encourage Tony to move down to his neck. "Damn right I am," he said. "This place ain't no joke, boss."

Tony grunted as he nosed past the collar of Bucky's shirt, seeking the hollow of Bucky's shoulder. "Don't know why it has to be 'round the clock," Tony said.

Bucky shuddered at the teasing caress of Tony's breath and arched up against his mouth, silently begging. "'Cause they'll be watching us 'round the clock," he said, not caring that his voice was rough and unsteady.

Tony huffed with false annoyance, as if he didn't already know all the arguments, and sucked at Bucky's collarbone until he'd pulled a whimper from Bucky's throat. "Don't see why they couldn't have at least given the Winter Soldier programming some sexytime and cuddling protocols."

Bucky snorted. "Right, because assassins are so very sexy."

Tony grinned and ground down against him. "It works for Natasha."

"I am _so_ going to tell her you said that."

"I thought you were trying to keep me _alive_."

Bucky rolled his hips up. "I'm not defending you from rank stupidity."

"You're the one threatening to tell on me! Such an asshole."

"You like it," Bucky said, smirking. He adjusted his grip on Tony's hips, fitting their bodies together, taking over the movement of Tony's thrusting to keep things smooth and easy.

"Mm," Tony grunted in agreement, dropping his head to Bucky's shoulder, "it's a weakness."

Bucky turned his head to find Tony's earlobe, tracing it with his tongue. "I like being your weakness," he whispered.

Tony shivered -- whether from Bucky's breath against his ear or at the too-raw sentiment, Bucky wasn't sure -- and captured Bucky's mouth in a kiss.

Bucky allowed the kiss to grow frantic and deep even as he kept the motion of Tony's hips rolling and slow, reveling in the coarse slide of cloth, the heat and pressure of Tony's cock against his, separated by only a few layers of clothes.

Tony groaned into Bucky's mouth, pleading, and Bucky chuckled wickedly and forced the grinding to a standstill. "As much as I would enjoy making you come in your pants," he murmured against Tony's lips, "I'm pretty sure there's not enough time before we land."

Tony struggled against Bucky's grip briefly before giving it up as a lost cause. "Would've had plenty of time if you weren't such a damn tease," he said.

Bucky kissed the hollow of Tony's throat. "You like that, too," he pointed out.

Tony couldn't dispute that, and they both knew it. "You're going to make this up to me as soon as we leave," he said instead.

"If you're going to be this bitchy the whole time, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who'll be owed."

"I can work with that."

"God, you are such a brat."

"Gonna spank me?"

Bucky snorted and gently pushed Tony off his lap. "Not right now. We're" --he glanced out the window-- "about ninety seconds from touchdown. You need to sit down and I need to... get into character."

Tony sighed and slumped into the seat facing Bucky, but Bucky knew better than to think he was actually sulking.

Bucky closed his eyes, let himself fall back into darkness, and felt the Winter Soldier reach up to catch him.

"Just because _you_ can turn it off at will," Tony was complaining.

He opened his eyes to a world that seemed drained of color, though edges and details stood out in sharp relief. "I can't turn it off," he said. "I just ignore it. Put on your seatbelt."

"Same difference," Tony said. He shrugged into the shoulder harness built into the seat, but ignored the lap belt. He cocked his head, studying the Soldier with bright, calculating eyes. "That was a faster than usual switch."

The Soldier shrugged and looked out the window as the plane bumped into its landing, let the sudden application of the brakes tug him forward. Airport runways all had a sameness to them, but the Soldier picked out the extra surveillance monitors, the places that could be concealing weaponry, the resigned set of the workers' shoulders.

Latveria.

If there was any other country in the world more detrimental to his mission to keep Tony protected, the Soldier did not know of it. If he didn't know with absolute certainty that Tony would only turn around and come back by himself, he would order the plane to take off again immediately.

Tony was out of the harness again already, even though the plane was still taxiing. "You've still got the plan intact?"

The need to interact with the locals, to conduct business, to make deals and bargains, meant that what they had was less of a plan and more a collection of contingencies, but the Soldier nodded. "Guard you, gather intel," he summarized.

"You don't think you lost any details in the switchover?" Tony pursued. "This is our last chance to go over anything in private."

The Soldier shook his head. "Memory loss and corruption is negated by a non-traumatic transition."

Tony stood up as the plane came to a halt and brushed the wrinkles out of his clothes. "Tech talk," he hummed. "Hot." He slanted a grin at the Soldier, but seemed neither dismayed nor provoked by the Soldier's lack of response. He opened the storage compartment and retrieved the Iron Man suitcase and his suit jacket.

The Soldier stood as well. He rolled his shoulders to make sure his weapons were settled, then took the suitcase from Tony. It was much heavier than it looked, but the Soldier already knew to compensate for it. Tony gave him a critical once-over, reached up to straighten his collar and to smooth a few wrinkles from his shirt. "Ready, James?" he asked.

The Soldier drew on the bodyguard persona, aware that Bucky would be amused by the double-layer of personality overlays. He looked out the window again, then rolled his shoulders and flexed his metal fingers. This wasn't the most difficult mission he'd ever had. "Ready when you are, Mr. Stark."


	15. Prompt: Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following anonymous prompt: _...I'd love to see some disgustingly sweet post nightmare comfort fluff between them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's turn to have a nightmare. Tony had one in [Chapter 3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1867764/chapters/4066866).

"Sir, please wake up. Your attention is required."

Tony refused to open his eyes, but enough light seeped through that he could tell JARVIS was bringing the lights up. "Nng, JARVIS, tell Pep--"

"Sir, I believe it is Sergeant Barnes who requires your assistance."

Tony frowned and reached out with one hand, swiftly encountering the solid warmth of Bucky's body. "He's right here."

"Yes, sir. His vital signs indicate a persistent and unusually deep retreat into Winter Soldier programming, however."

Tony gave up and opened his eyes. "Okay, okay. How unusual?" Bucky appeared to be deeply asleep. He was lying still, not even eyelids flickering, and breathing slow and deep.

"My extrapolation is inexact, as I am unable to compute several factors while he sleeps. However, given the rapidity with which his heartrate slowed after a brief but extremely intense REM cycle, I fear it may be a near-entire withdrawal."

"Crap. Okay, thanks, J. I've got it from here." Tony scooted closer to Bucky and put a hand on his shoulder. "Bucky? Wanna wake up for me, babe?"

Somewhat to Tony's surprise, Bucky's eyes opened immediately. They scanned the room quickly, then locked on Tony's face. He didn't say anything, just looked at Tony, distant and dangerous.

"That's great, that's good, thanks," Tony said. "Do you know who I am?" Bucky nodded once. "Nope, sunshine, I'm gonna need you to use your words for me right now. Tell me who I am."

"Tony."

"Good job, thank you." Tony slid his hand up Bucky's shoulder and let his thumb stroke across the side of Bucky's neck. "You're down pretty deep," Tony observed. "What'd you need the retreat for, Buck?"

"Extreme emotional stress."

"Nightmare?" Bucky's eyes flickered around the room again, as if to say _so evidence would suggest_. The worst of Bucky's nightmares tended to happen with him locked unmoving and silent, so Tony tended to sleep straight through them. There was an agreement in place about that, though. "You're supposed to wake me up for those," Tony reminded Bucky.

Bucky didn't respond.

"Why are you hiding from this one, Bucky?"

"Don't remember." Bucky's eyes slid toward the dark shadows of the corner near the bathroom.

Tony's eyebrows lifted. "You don't-- Bucky, are you _lying_ to me?"

Bucky hesitated. "Yes."

Once, sparring with Natasha, Tony had miscalculated and stepped into a punch to the chest. This felt nothing at all like that, but the comparison flickered across his mind anyway. "Bucky. You don't have to tell me what the dream was. You know that. I don't need to know if you don't want to tell me. Just come back to me, okay?"

Bucky's forehead creased, ever so slightly, and his metal arm whirred with some internal shift. Tony picked up Bucky's metal hand and rubbed it against his face. Bucky's eyes followed the hand's motion, and a sort of pain flickered in them.

The tableau held for a moment, and then suddenly Bucky shuddered all over and wrapped himself around Tony. His face pushed into Tony's shoulder and his arms twined around Tony's waist and his legs tangled with Tony's, drawing Tony close and closer and closer still as if he was trying to climb right into Tony's skin, shivering violently the whole time.

"Okay," Tony breathed. "It's okay, babe, I'm here, I'm right here. Everyone's okay." He let his hands slide over Bucky's skin, smoothing the twitching muscles of his back, raking fingers through Bucky's hair, tracing the curves of his shoulders and arms. "You haven't hurt anyone, you're right here with me."

Bucky shook his head. "They. They made me choose."

"It was just a dream, Bucky."

Bucky let out a frustrated whine. "But I still had to choose. _I_ did."

Oh, yeah, those. Tony'd had those dreams, too, and they always made him feel skittish and incorrect for hours, sometimes days, afterward. Tony pressed his lips to Bucky's hair. "Yeah, babe. I know. There's no right choice, not ever. You were always going to feel shitty, no matter which choice you made."

Bucky wasn't crying, but he didn't sound far off. "I'm sorry, Tony, I'm so _sorry_."

Tony sighed. It wasn't hard to put those pieces together, was it? "You chose Steve." Bucky flinched as if he'd been shot. "It's okay, Bucky. It's _okay_. You had to choose, and you've been protecting Steve for your _whole damn life_. Of course you chose him."

"Tony, I..."

"It's still just a dream," Tony said firmly, one hand stroking slowly over the back of Bucky's neck. "Doesn't mean anything except that he's your first priority, just like he _always has been_. I already knew that. You're not confessing some dark secret, here, Sparkles, it's not news."

Bucky didn't relax his hold or look up, but the shivering grew less intense. "No?"

"Not even a little bit. No surprises here. Frankly, I'm a little bit disappointed in your subconscious for being so damn boring."

Bucky huffed out something that might have been second cousin to a laugh. "I could stand for it to be a little more boring, really."

"Yeah? How about this one: you're breaking into a Hydra base and they're playing really terrible music on the intercom, and you can't figure out how to turn it off."

"Do you get that one a lot?"

"Why do you think I put the PA override software in the suit?" Tony asked. "You can't expect me to deal with bad guys while _polka_ is playing, right? Your turn."

"Um, okay, uh. Answering a call and charging into the jet only to realize I forgot my pants."

"I've done that," Tony deadpanned. "It turned out to work pretty well for distracting the bad guys, actually."

Bucky actually snickered a little, and his death-grip on Tony loosened slightly. "Getting back from a mission and discovering someone already ate all the leftover pizza," Tony suggested.

"Or pouring a bowl of cereal and realizing there's only a half-inch of milk left in the carton."

"Oh, god, what kind of monster _are_ you?"

Bucky uncurled enough to give Tony a playful shove. "I'm the monster who ate all the damn pizza," he said, trying for a dark and spooky tone that his smirk utterly ruined.

"I knew it!" Tony exclaimed dramatically, and failed to dodge when Bucky hit him with a pillow. They both laughed, and if Bucky's was a touch hysterical, Tony didn't mention it. It went on for a while, nearly dying down and then erupting into a fresh spate of snorts and chuckles.

When the last of it had died down, Bucky rearranged his hold to something a little less desperate. "Thanks," he whispered.

"Mm." Tony pulled Bucky's hand up, kissed his fingers. "No hiding next time, okay? Wake me up. We had a deal."

Bucky yawned and snuggled his head down into the hollow of Tony's shoulder. "Yeah, boss, okay."


	16. Prompt: Vibrating Arm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Response to the following anonymous prompt: _Tony makes Bucky's arm vibrate as a joke, then Bucky turns the tables on him by using it on him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit content warning. Nothing plotty, if you're worried about missing any of that stuff. Just pranks and porn.

Clint was pretty much the undisputed king of childish pranks within the tower. Natasha probably could have taken the title away from him if she'd wanted to, but she seemed content to largely rest on her laurels from the time she'd hidden about two hundred tiny plastic Hallowe'en-issue spiders in the cabinet with the coffee mugs and they'd spilled out early one morning all over both Clint and Tony, eliciting a pair of high-pitched squeals, followed by a lot of cursing and vows of vengeance.

All the Avengers were in on the pranking, and no one who set foot in their space was safe. It was, Thor had once explained apologetically to Maria Hill as she scraped the taste of salt-sweetened coffee from her tongue, a sign of affection and trust. Thor had laughed for _weeks_ over her eventual retaliation, which had been to summon him to help contain an alien incursion that turned out to be a truly impressive mound of nothing more than pink slime mold.

Steve was surprisingly good at it, too, for being such a terrible liar. Tony really, _really_ wanted to know how he'd managed to draw that mustache on Pepper's face without her noticing. Sam , equally surprisingly, was terrible at pranking, but he was always game to provide a distraction, and never sore about being the victim. Bruce didn't play very often, but when he did, his unassuming air and quiet manner gave him an indisputable edge.

The first person to pull a prank on Bucky was Steve, of course. The first person Bucky pranked turned out to be Clint, to both Steve and Tony's surprise, though he immediately claimed that _not_ picking Steve or Tony for his first prank should count as his _second_ prank. Which Tony accepted as, more or less, a declaration that it was open season for pranks on Bucky.

***

Tony sat in the meeting and watched the fingers of Bucky's metal hand.

When Bucky was stuck in a meeting and bored, he drummed his fingers. And not a simple one-two-three-four drumming, but a whole collection of more complicated rhythms. And if Tony wasn't mistaken, it always eventually ended up in the same pattern. Tony watched, allowing himself a quiet smirk as-- yep, there it went. One-one-two-one-two-three-one-two-three-four.

He could work with that, oh yes he could.

Six weeks later, after a checkup on Bucky's arm that had resulted in a minor upgrade to improve biofeedback sensitivity ( _not_ a lie, thank you very much; Tony was _excellent_ at hiding a lie within a truth) they were back in another meeting. And Bucky was beginning to tap his fingers.

Tony watched it, because he always watched Bucky's finger-tapping, and everyone knew it. He was pretty sure Natasha had noticed his anticipation, but at least she wasn't calling him on it, and no one else seemed to have caught on yet.

One-two-three-four-four-three-two-one.

One-three-two-four.

One-two-two-three-three-four-four-three-three-two-two-one.

One-one-two-( _oh god this was it!_ )-one-two-three-one-two-three-four--

A buzzing sound filled the room, like a vibrating cell phone. Several of the Avengers looked around in surprise to see whose it was.

Bucky was staring at his hand, his eyes wide with shock. One by one, the other Avengers turned to look at Bucky's hand, buzzing against the table. It wasn't until Bucky looked up and met Tony's eyes across the table that Tony lost it, nearly falling from his chair in hysterical laughter.

There was a beat, then two, and Clint started laughing, and then Sam. "Oh my god, you utter bastard," Bucky groaned, but then he was laughing, too, and on the videoconference, they could see Maria squinting at her screen and then sitting back to roll her eyes and wait for everyone to settle down again.

***

Bucky pinned Tony's hips down ruthlessly and swallowed his cock so fast that Tony couldn't even make a smart remark around the sudden whine in his throat. _God_ , but Tony loved it when Bucky was fast and rough and demanding. He tried to thrust up into Bucky's mouth, but Bucky's hold was too strong. Tony loved that, too.

"Bucky, Jesus, what did you _oh god_ Buck don't stop that, god, _god_..."

Dimly, just on the edge of consciousness, Tony felt a tap on his thigh. He ignored it, sliding his fingers into Bucky's hair, trying -- futilely -- to make Bucky move faster.

_Tap-tap_.

With a groan that was more plea than complaint, Tony opened his legs wider. "Bucky, god. That feels so good, so... Yes, there, your tongue, move your-- your fucking _tongue_ , Bucky, god, please, yes, yes, _just like tha--_ Nnng, faster, please, _please_."

_Tap-tap-tap_.

What the fuck was he--

Oh. _Oh._ Oh, _god_ , he'd figured out the trigger pattern. "Bucky, wait, are you really--" _Tap-tap-tap-tap_.

_Bzzzzzz..._

Christ, _Christ_ , the vibration filled Bucky's whole hand, from fingertips right down to the base of his wrist. And Bucky was slowly dragging that hand along the inside of Tony's thigh.

Tony had never needed to _move_ so badly in his life, but Bucky was still stronger than Tony. "Bucky," he whined, "fucking _fuck_ Bucky, I need that in me. In me, _now_."

Bucky pulled off Tony's cock and grinned up at him. "Nah," he said lazily. "Not quite yet."

"You are the devil," Tony huffed.

"Oh, I'm much worse than that," Bucky promised. He touched one fingertip to Tony's perineum, smugly ignoring Tony's desperate squirming to shift it just _that_ much further. "You know how long it took me to figure out how to control the damn buzz?" he asked.

Tony gave up squirming and let his head drop back. Bucky rewarded him with an increase in pressure that startled a groan of pleasure from him. "Tell me," Tony panted.

Bucky laughed and ran two vibrating fingers slowly up the length of Tony's cock. "Finally figured it out yesterday." He paused, and then said, "In the shower." Tony let out a shivery laugh at that. (The running joke lately was Bucky was cheating on the shower with Tony and that the shower was going to find out about it any day now.) Tony's laugh broke off sharply as Bucky rolled his palm over and around the head of Tony's cock.

Jesus _fucking_ Christ. Tony was no stranger to toys, but this, this, _this_ … Tony whimpered again, and Bucky's mouth closed over his, swallowing the sound.

"I was in the shower," Bucky said against Tony's mouth, "so I got to try it out."

And _god_ , that was a hell of a mental image. "Gonna show me your favorites?" Tony asked, lifting his head just enough to cheat his tongue between Bucky's lips.

"All of 'em? Tonight?" Bucky teased. His hand curled all the way around Tony's cock.

It was like a fire had ignited in Tony's balls, and despite Bucky's strength he managed to lift his hips off the bed. "Shit, Bucky, Buck, I'm--" Bucky hummed and dug the tip of his thumb into the slit, and that was it _._ Breathing gone, motor control gone, higher brain functions gone, all for the endless, searing moment of orgasm.

Tony was only just coming back online when Bucky grinned and dragged the (no longer buzzing) hand down the center of Tony's chest, stopping to trace around his navel. "Tell the truth," he said. "It wasn't just a prank. You had this in mind from the beginning."

"I'll never tell," Tony said.

Bucky grinned and flowed smoothly up onto his knees and straddled Tony's hips. "Good," he said. "That just means I get to torture it out of you."


	17. Prompt: Spider-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Response to this prompt from [murmuredlullabye](http://murmuredlullabye.tumblr.com/): _I kind of want Bucky and Tony from your M &T'verse to meet Peter. Or Spider-man. Or both._

On the one hand, Tony had to admire anyone who was so regularly abused by the editorial column of the _Daily Bugle_. Jameson had even been shoveling his obvious despite for this Spider-Man guy into the supposedly-unbiased straight news pieces, and anyone who could wind Jameson up that tight deserved all the support that Tony could give.

On the other hand, when the skinny twerp fouled up the Avengers' hard-won teamwork, it made Tony kind of want to punch him right in the middle of his weirdly-masked face.

"Widow, status!"

"Well, I _was_ right behind the ringleader, Cap, but then short-red-and-stringy dragged him off to... somewhere. I don't know where. I don't see him anymore." Wow, Natasha was _pissed_ when she started using epithets in mid-battle.

"Got 'im," Clint chimed in. "Two blocks east of where you are now, Widow."

Natasha cursed. "On my way."

"Wait, the spider just slung them another block south," Bucky reported from his vantage. "They're headed right for me."

"Dammit," Steve growled. "That shoots our formation all to hell. Iron Man, see if you can do something about our overenthusiastic friend, will you?"

"On it, Cap," Tony said. "Hawkeye, can you take care of this tail I've got?"

Clint didn't answer, but the drone chasing Tony blew up, and that was good enough. Tony banked sharp and came in low. At least he didn't have any trouble spotting the Spider-Man. Tony hoped he was tougher than he looked, decking himself out in a target of a costume like that.

"Oh, hey!" Spider-Man said cheerfully as he jumped out of the way of an attack. "Glad to see I'm gonna get some help on this one. This guy's really tough, but between you and me, we should be able to get him in _irons_ , right?" He shot a web across the street and started to swing up and around.

Christ. If the guy paid half as much attention to his tactics as he did to his one-liners, they wouldn't be having this problem. Tony flew past, grabbing the filament as he went. It was surprisingly strong, but not strong enough to withstand a repulsor beam. It snapped, and Tony angled straight up, the dangling Spider-Man in tow.

"Woah, hey now!" Spider-Man shot another web out, releasing the strand Tony was holding, but Tony was already expecting that. He reversed his position, snatching at the new strand and yanking on it so that Spider-Man, already mid-air, was snapped back to collide with the armor. "Oof!"

Before he could shoot another line out, Tony grabbed his wrist. "Let's talk, web-slinger."

"Uh. Look, I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but... Bad guy?" Spider-Man pointed toward the ground.

"Yeah, my team is going to take care of him. That's what we're going to talk about." Tony turned off his comm -- JARVIS would let him know if someone said something he needed to know, and he didn't want the distraction of the chatter in his ear. He landed on Bucky's roof, on the off-chance he was going to need help with the vigilante. Bucky didn't seem to notice them, watching the street-level action through a scope, but Tony knew he would be listening in. He did not release Spider-Man's wrist.

Spider-Man tugged, and Tony was surprised by the strength of that apparently casual pull, especially given how slender that wrist was and how far up Spider-Man had to crane his neck to look at Tony. Fortunately, the helmet made it easy for Tony to hide his reaction. "I'd rather not hurt you," he said warningly. "I just want to talk."

Unfortunately, Spider-Man's mask made it impossible to gauge _his_ reaction. "You know, I knocked out a guy who was saying that exact thing to a girl in an alley the other night, and felt pretty justified about it."

Tony ignored that as the distraction it was meant to be. "You are screwing up our battle plans," he said. "I appreciate that you want to help, but you are actively making it harder for us right now."

"What can I say? I'm used to working solo."

"Then you need to stay out of the way when we're on a scene," Tony snapped.

"I was on this scene _first_ ," Spider-Man said.

"But it was too big for you. That's why we came in. If you'd been handling it, we'd have stayed home and watched another episode of _Cupcake Wars_."

"Oh, man, did you see the caramel cake special?!" Spider-Man's voice actually squeaked and his body language was genuinely enthusiastic, and his free arm flailing.

Tony mentally dialed Spider-Man's age down some more. "God, not another one of you. Listen, seriously, your improvisation is spreading chaos and damage, and increasing the probability of danger to civilians." That got through, at least. The kid stopped struggling and his shoulders slumped.

Tony considered Spider-Man's record and his apparent superhuman capabilities, and made a snap judgment that Steve was probably going to give him hell for, later. "Look, if you're going to stick around when we show up on the scene, you need to be able to follow orders. Come train with us some time, and get some experience."

"Are you asking me to join the Avengers?"

"No," Tony said quickly. Steve really _would_ kill him for that. "I don't have that authority," he continued more gently, "and you're just a kid anyway."

"Am not!"

"...I trust that proves my point."

"Dammit."

On the far side of the roof, Bucky laid his rifle aside and stood up. He gave Tony the thumbs-up to indicate the battle below was done, then began to creep closer, moving in utter silence.

"Anyway," Tony told Spider-Man, "teammates shouldn't have secrets from each other, and as near as I can tell you've been pretty adamant about not revealing your identity."

"Damn right. I'm not putting anyone else I love at risk." The kid suddenly sounded much older and more determined. Tony wondered who he had lost.

He didn't ask. "We like the work you're doing, for the most part. Come train with us, and maybe we'll get you a comm for situations like these."

Bucky was still approaching, but just before he got within arm's reach, Spider-Man flinched and spun around so fast that he actually managed to tear his wrist free from Tony's gauntlet. Bucky's eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. The kid definitely had some kind of super-strength, Tony noted, and faster reflexes than most, though Tony wasn't sure yet if those were enhanced or just very, very good. And he had to have super-hearing or something, because even Steve couldn't hear Bucky when Bucky wanted to be sneaky.

"Jesus, you're the Winter Soldier. How the hell did you get that close to me?!" Spider-Man demanded.

Bucky almost smirked. "Sneaking is a thing I do."

"Yeah, well, detecting danger is a thing _I_ do," Spider-Man countered.

Bucky held up his hands to show them empty. "I'm not a danger."

Spider-Man took a step back. "I'm not stupid enough to believe that unarmed means harmless. Especially for you."

Bucky actually grinned at that. "I like this one, Tony. Can we keep him? I promise I'll take him for walks and everything!"

"Maybe," Tony said, playing along. He pointed at Spider-Man. "Maybe next time you can actually help instead of pissing off the Black Widow."

Spider-Man's shoulders hunched. "I, uh. I pissed off the Black Widow?" He sounded about ready to wet his spandex.

Which was a perfectly reasonable reaction to having angered Natasha. Tony approved.

"Kid, you pissed off the whole damn team," Bucky said. "I haven't heard Cap lose his cool in the middle of combat like that since '44."

Bucky was exaggerating -- Steve hadn't really lost his cool, and he'd been much hotter just the previous week, when Clint had changed vantage points without telling anyone.

But Spider-Man was cringing again, as if he was more worried about Steve's reaction than Natasha's.

Tony grinned inside his helmet. So Cap was the kid's favorite? That explained the color scheme, anyway. Tony could work with that. "Team practice, next Wednesday night," he repeated. "Show up. If you're able to work with us as a team and take orders, we'll talk about the options afterward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT KNOW if there will be more Spider-Man to come! I haven't figured it out yet! We'll see!


	18. Prompts: Kids and Disney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following prompts:  
> \- [ravenwolf35](http://ravenwolf35.tumblr.com/): _Bucky and Tony having to babysit. I just got an idea based off one of the other prompts._  
>  \- Anonymous: _Can there be something involving Bucky, Steve, and 70 years of Disney movies?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for implied child abuse.
> 
> Stuff in [brackets] is spoken in Russian.

Bucky, following Tony's texted directions, found himself in a park.

Tony was sitting on a bench beside a playground. On his left was a bright-haired moppet that had to be Natasha, swinging her legs and watching the playground with nearly as much sharp attention as Tony. On Tony's right was a little boy with hunched shoulders and curly dark hair that Bucky eventually realized must be Bruce. Both kids looked to be about five years old.

Bucky scanned the playground and immediately found Steve, an unsettling echo of Bucky's own earliest memories, his frail, crooked body cradled in a swing and laughing with delight as he pumped his legs, pushing himself higher and higher.

Bucky didn't recognize Clint -- there were a dozen or so kids running around -- but Bucky figured Tony would have an eye on them all, so he didn't worry over it too much. He eyed the kids' body language -- Natasha looked tense, but Bruce seemed about one good startle away from nervous collapse -- and decided to approach from Natasha's side of the bench. "Hey, Tony," he said, trying for a casual tone.

"Oh, thank god you're here," Tony groaned.

"What happened?"

"I hate magic _so much_."

"Yeah, boss, I know. Where's the suit?"

"It terrified three of the four of them, so I sent it home."

"Sure, makes sense. Who wasn't scared?"

"Bruce, of course." Tony's voice was loaded with a sort of false cheer, and his eyes underscored the impression Bucky had taken from the child's cowering posture: Bruce might not have been afraid of the Iron Man armor, but he was deathly afraid of almost everything else.

Bruce's knees were pulled into his chest and he was peering at Bucky uncertainly over his arms. Bucky tried on a small, unthreatening smile. "Hey there."

Bruce flinched and all but burrowed into Tony's side, hiding his face.

Tony put his arm around Bruce's hunched shoulders. "Hey, Bucky's a friend. I promise, he's safe, too."

Bucky smirked. "How the he-eck did _you_ get slotted as the safe one?"

Tony stuck out his tongue at Bucky. "Residual memory is my going theory, since we were all working together when it happened. They don't seem freaked by being _here_ or _now_ , and they recognize each other, too. Kind of. I don't know for sure, though, because _magic is horrible_." He nudged Bruce gently and tried to get him to look up. "He's got a robot arm, you know. He might let you look at it, if you felt like coming out." Bruce clenched a tiny hand in Tony's shirt and shook his head vehemently. Tony sighed. "Okay, Bruce, you take all the time you need."

"[Who is this?]" Natasha demanded. Her big green eyes were fixed suspiciously on Bucky.

Bucky knew enough of Natasha's history that he didn't try to smile at her. "[You can call me Yasha.]"

Her eyes widened. She did not lean closer to Tony, but she looked like she wanted to. Tony patted her knee. "[Yasha is my friend, Natalia. He will not hurt you.]"

"[He speaks Russian, Tosha. Better than you.]"

"[I noticed that.]"

Her eyes didn't leave Bucky for an instant. "[Is he one of the teachers?]"

Bucky looked from Natasha to Tony; Tony was already watching him. "Why don't you go get Steve?" Tony suggested mildly.

"Sure," Bucky said, accepting his cue, though he wondered what it was that Tony wanted to say to Natasha and Bruce without him around. "What about Clint?"

Tony grinned. "You get Steve to come, Clint will follow."

"Yeah?"

"Pretty sure, yeah."

Tony's "pretty sure" was as good as anyone else's "absolutely certain", so Bucky just nodded. "Okay. You call Strange yet?"

"Right after I called you. He's too important or too asleep or too in-another-dimension to talk to me right now, though, so I had to leave a fu-- a message with his assistant. Who is even worse than Strange himself. Go get Steve. We'll take them home and sort it out later."

"Gotcha." Bucky headed out onto the playground, trying to pretend that he couldn't feel the stares of the other parents.

He watched Steve swinging for a long moment. A soft ache of nostalgia spread through his chest: at this age, Steve was sickly and stubborn but still mostly easygoing and happy, having not yet developed the angry pride that had been Steve's shield through their adolescent and adult lives. After a while, Bucky waved to catch Steve's attention.

Frowning, Steve let the swing slow, but didn't stop. "Hey, Stevie. I'm Bucky." Bucky was pretty sure Steve was young enough not to know that name yet. "Tony asked me to come and get you."

Steve pouted. "Wanna swing some more."

"Maybe later. C'mon, Tony's waiting."

Steve's jaw jutted out, and fuck, Bucky had forgotten that Steve had done that as a kid, too. He tried hard not to grin. "Ten more minutes," Steve bargained.

"No, now," Bucky insisted.

"Five minutes?"

Firmly: "Steve."

"Stop that!" A pinecone hit Bucky on the side of the head.

Bucky turned toward the shout and snorted. About ten feet away was a kid with sandy-blond hair, a fading shiner on his cheek, and another pinecone already wound up in his little fist. Well, he'd found Clint.

"Leave Steve alone!" Clint said. Bucky tried really hard not to think of the way the kid was puffing himself up as "adorable".

"Clint, I _got it_ ," Steve protested. "Don't throw stuff at grown-ups, you'll get in trouble!"

"He's bein' mean to you!" Clint snapped back. Bucky should've known Clint would be a belligerent little cuss. Bruises decorated his legs and arms. His pale eyes were already unsettlingly focused and wary.

"Nuh-uh, not really," Steve said. He stopped the swing and all but fell out of the seat. Ignoring Bucky's abortive lunge to steady him, he stamped over to Clint and gave off his best unimpressed glare, as if he wasn't a hand shorter and half Clint's weight. "You're not s'posed ta throw stuff!"

"Y'ain't supposed t'be _mean_ , either," Clint said, with sharp, pointed look at Bucky.

"Don't get in trouble for me," Steve said earnestly. "I can take care of myself."

"Sure," said Clint easily, "but why would you want to?"

Christ Almighty, if that wasn't at least half of a replay of Steve and Bucky's first meeting... "How about," Bucky interrupted, pretending his throat wasn't tight, "you both come with me, and we'll all go back to Tony's place together, and we'll have some ice cream and watch a movie."

Steve brightened immediately. "Chocolate ice cream?" he asked.

Clint looked at Bucky suspiciously, then past him, at Tony. Tony was watching; he waved and made a "come on, let's go" sort of gesture. Clint hesitated a moment longer, then seemed to accept Tony's tacit approval of Bucky. He managed to maneuver himself between Steve and Bucky as they walked back across the playground, though. Bucky allowed it, pressing his lips together to hide his amusement.

By the time they got there, Tony and Natasha were standing up, hand-in-hand. Bruce was riding on Tony's shoulders, and he managed to give Bucky a tiny smile. Somehow, that made Bucky warm all over, as if he'd been granted something rare. If Bruce was that shy, though, he probably wouldn't want attention called to it, so Bucky just smiled back and told Tony, "I promised these two terrors we'd give them ice cream and movies."

"Sounds like an excellent plan," Tony concurred. "Back to the tower with us!"

Bucky had brought one of Tony's bigger cars, but Tony liked sporty cars, so it wasn't really big enough for six. Still, he thought it would suffice for the short trip back to the tower with the four kids squashed in the back -- until Bruce refused to let go of Tony's shirt.

The look on Bruce's face wasn't petulance, it was _terror_. Bucky sighed and crawled into the back seat. It was cramped, but he could hog what little leg room there was, since none of the kids needed it.

"Buck, you don't have to-- Bruce, Brucie, hey, let go, it's okay, I'm not going to--"

"It's okay, Tony," Bucky said, carefully arranging his legs. "Pull the passenger seat up as far as it will go and we'll manage. It's not that long a drive."

It almost took longer to get everyone into the car than it would have just to walk back. Even granted the front passenger seat, Bruce didn't want to let go of Tony. While Tony was negotiating with Bruce to get him belted in and give him a piece of Tony's shirt to cling to, Natasha claimed the space behind the driver's seat. Steve plunked down next to Bucky, and then Clint tried to shove Steve over next to Natasha. The two boys started arguing, and when it looked like it might devolve into trading blows, Bucky sighed and pulled Steve up onto his lap. "Knock it off," he told Clint. "You're going to hurt him."

Clint hesitated, a hint of genuine remorse crossing his features. "No he ain't," Steve argued. Bucky rolled his eyes.

Steve wasn't trying to get away, though, so Bucky didn't rise to the bait. "You stay here," he said instead, and then told Clint, "and you can sit next to me. See? Plenty of me to go around."

"Was tryin' to keep him _away_ from you," Clint said, lifting his chin in a dare. As if Bucky hadn't already figured that out.

"Don't _need_ you ta--" Steve started.

Bucky flicked Steve's shoulder, just hard enough to sting a little. "Shut up, y'dumb Irish." Steve twisted around to glare fiercely at Bucky, and Bucky just grinned. "Where d'ya think I came from?" he asked, letting his old-Brooklyn drawl lean heavy on his words.

Steve's eyes narrowed a little, but he turned back around and leaned back against Bucky's chest with a huff, and turned his head to look out the window. God, Bucky had forgotten just how skinny Steve had been. The little knobs of his crooked spine jabbed into Bucky like spines.

Bucky looked down at Clint. "See, he's fine. Hey, looking out for your friends is a good thing, but sometimes you gotta let them make their own choices."

Clint pouted and flopped back against the seat, folding his arms across his chest. "Steve makes _stupid_ choices," he sulked.

Bucky wasn't dumb enough to say aloud that he agreed.

Natasha looked at Clint appraisingly. "[You must not let the teachers see you angry,]" she advised.

Clint didn't seem to understand her, but he didn't let that stop him from talking back. "You have pretty hair."

Natasha didn't understand Clint, either. She shrugged and leaned back into the corner of the seat, one foot wiggling. Her gaze roamed around the interior of the car and then locked onto Bruce, finally settled into the passenger seat, with the slightest frown.

"Are we finally all settled?" Tony asked.

"Settled as we're going to be," Bucky allowed.

Thankfully, it was a short drive, even with city traffic, and the kids spent most of the ride looking out the windows.

Things got a little easier once they'd made it back to the tower, but not much.

Natasha was eerily, almost heartbreakingly compliant.

"[Do you want vanilla or chocolate ice cream?]" Tony asked her.

"[Whatever you give me is fine.]"

"[Yes, yes, but which one do you _want_?]"

Natasha cocked her head and studied Tony as if trying to decide whether it was a test, and Bucky's heart just about broke. "Go get the movie thing set up so they can pick. I've got this," he told Tony, and then scooped a little of each flavor into Natasha's bowl. "[More is permitted,]" he told her solemnly, "[as long as you ask politely.]"

"[Thank you, Teacher Yasha,]" she said. Bucky knew she wouldn't ask for more, even if the others did.

"How come she got both?" Clint demanded.

"Because she asked nicely," Bucky lied. "Do you want chocolate or vanilla?"

"Strawberry."

"We don't have strawberry. Chocolate or vanilla?"

"Why not?"

Bucky tried to keep the frustration from his face. "Because Tony's friend Pepper is allergic to strawberries and we don't want her to get sick. Do you want ice cream or not?"

"I want strawberry."

"Give him vanilla!" Tony called from the living room.

"No! Chocolate!" Clint argued. Bucky snorted and dished out a bowl for Clint, and then handed him a second bowl of chocolate. "Give that to Steve. He already said he wanted chocolate, earlier."

Clint squinted suspiciously at both bowls. "Did you give Steve more than me?"

"Oh my god."

"I'm bigger than Steve."

"I'm aware of that. Jesus."

"But this one--"

" _Clint_ ," Bucky growled, rubbing at his forehead. "I am at the end of my damn rope with you. I didn't _measure_ the ice cream. Give one of them to Steve, I don't care which, and _stop arguing with me_."

"Or what?" Clint challenged.

"Or you get no ice cream," Tony interrupted, coming back into the kitchen with Bruce still clinging to his shirt. He fixed Clint with a stare. "My ice cream, my rules. Go." Clint scowled at Tony, but finally took the bowls out to the living room.

"Thanks," Bucky sighed. "I didn't think it was possible for him to be even more annoying than..." He swallowed the rest of it and tried to smile at Bruce. "What kind of ice cream do you want?"

Bruce tightened his grip on Tony. "We were bigger."

"What?"

Bruce ducked half-behind Tony, as if he was expecting Bucky to yell at him, or worse. "Before," he whispered.

Tony twisted ungracefully, trying to turn enough to look at Bruce. "Yeah," he agreed, dropping a hand on Bruce's tousled curls. "You were. There was an accident, sort of, that made you small. Stop cringing, it wasn't your fault. How'd you figure it out?"

Bruce pointed to a picture stuck to the refrigerator of the adult Bruce and Natasha presenting Tony with the birthday cake they had made for him a few months ago. Clint wasn't in the shot, but Steve was, and everyone was laughing except for Tony, who was pretending to look offended by the ridiculous number of candles. It was a little blurry, but Bucky had kept it because it was rare to get a picture in which both Bruce and Natasha looked so happy.

"Huh. Good job, Bruce. You're the smartest." Tony ruffled Bruce's hair.

Bruce didn't look very happy. "Are you gonna… send us back?"

"Send you back where?"

Bruce waved a hand. "Back. Home. Where we came from."

Tony dropped down into a squat, putting his face on Bruce's level. "No," he promised. "You're not really… God, I hate magic. I can't _explain_ anything, even to the smartest guy in the room. But it's done, it's over. Okay? You are _not_ going back." Tony watched Bruce's face, though exactly for what, Bucky wasn't sure.

Finally, Bruce nodded, and Tony smiled. "But, hey, don't tell the others, okay? Steve might be sad."

"Clint wouldn't."

Tony made a "maybe, maybe not" gesture. "He'd blab to Steve, though."

"Yeah," Bruce agreed. He took a tighter grip on Tony's shirt, then looked up at Bucky cautiously. "Vanilla. Please."

"You got it," Bucky said. He dished up the ice cream and handed it over.

Bruce actually let go of Tony's shirt to take the bowl in both hands. "Can we, um."

Tony waited, and Bucky turned around, ostentatiously disregarding Tony and Bruce while he put the ice cream away and cleaned the counter.

"Can we watch _The Rescuers_?" Bruce whispered.

"Excellent choice," Tony agreed. "Do you think you can go sit down with the others and give me a minute, here?"

"You're gonna talk about us," Bruce said, not really questioning.

"You bet," Tony said happily. "I promise -- I _promise_ \-- we'll be there in five minutes, okay?"

There was a pause that probably involved some nonverbal communication, and then Bucky heard Bruce leaving on reluctant cat-feet. Tony leaned into Bucky's back, pressing his forehead between Bucky's shoulder blades. "I hate magic _so much_."

Bucky turned carefully, sliding his arms around Tony and kissing his hair. "Yep," he agreed. "These kids are fucking broken, you know that, right?"

"Yeah. Their childhoods make mine look like a damn Norman Rockwell painting," Tony sighed. "Don't let Clint wind you up. He's trying to find your limits."

"Yeah, I got that," Bucky said. "Annoying little shit. Hopefully the movies will chill him out for a while."

"Hopefully," Tony corrected, "Strange will call me back soon."

Bucky nodded. "Come on, let's go watch crappy kid movies and try to keep them from killing each other or something."

***

Doctor Strange didn't call Tony back for three days.

So for three days, Tony and Bucky and the kids camped out in the common room. They got sleeping bags and slept on the couch. Bruce mostly used Tony as a pillow, and somewhere around the second day, Natasha abruptly decided that Bucky was her favorite and all but glued herself to his side. Clint continued in his role as Steve's self-appointed bodyguard.

Tony lost track, halfway through the second day, of all the animated movies they'd watched. And re-watched. He wound up setting up a second screen on the other side of the room just so there would always be two choices of movie playing, because otherwise the bickering made him want to rip his ears off.

Steve's favorites were _The Sword in the Stone_ and _The Black Cauldron_. Bruce started with the Rescuers series, and then watched _Mulan_ three times in a row until Natasha finally revolted and made him pick something else. Natasha refused to choose any movies herself, but she watched all of _Ratatouille_ with wide, fascinated eyes.

Clint got addicted to _Kim Possible_ and threw tantrums when it was someone else's turn to pick. But Bucky woke up in the middle of the second night to find Clint sitting alone in front of the screen, silently sobbing through the end of _The Fox and the Hound_. (Bucky let Clint cry himself to sleep on Bucky's shoulder, and then tucked him in with Steve for the night. After that, Clint stopped testing Bucky's temper _quite_ so determinedly, though he watched Bucky warily to make sure Bucky wasn't going to renege on his promise not to tell anyone.)

Finally, Strange caught up and de-de-aged (re-aged?) everyone. None of them could remember their time as children. Bucky thought that was probably for the best, though like the de-aging, there were some things that, peculiarly, seemed to stick with them.

Clint continued to watch Steve a little more closely than he had before. Steve didn't seem to mind, if he even noticed.

For several weeks, Bruce spent a lot of extra time hanging out with Tony in Tony's workshop. Tony noticed, but likewise didn't seem to mind.

Natasha talked Bruce into taking a cooking class with her, and the two of them took over the cooking duties for the better part of three months. (Bucky had to spend some extra time in the gym, and Tony just gave up and loosened his belt a notch.)

Steve bought a porch swing to put on his balcony. A couple of months later, he suggested to Bucky that they should have a Disney movie marathon, to catch up on everything they'd missed. Bucky wasn't sure whether that was actually a carryover from the de-aging incident, or just Steve being Steve.

And though Tony had always been happy to make time for Iron Man's younger fans, the expression on his face when little kids came up to him now was much more thoughtful. He denied, however, having anything to do with it when the Maria Stark Foundation established a new grant to fund charities that helped children dealing with current or past abuse.


	19. Prompt: Family Fluff (Part 1/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill in response to the following anonymous prompts:
> 
>   * I'd like to see some of tony's interactions with the team, both individually and as a group.
>   * I'd love to see a chapter of how Bucky interacts with the rest of the team on a daily basis.
>   * I'd love to see some Bucky hanging out with Sam or Bruce or natasha as you haven't touched on that too much yet. Maybe it's a mission or maybe they're just chilling. I just want to see Bucky making friends!
>   * Bucky and Natasha team up to find Steve a girlfriend.
>   * Rhodey and Bucky talking about how stupid their nicknames are????? And Tony is in the corner laughing his butt off.
>   * Bucky hearing Clint and Tony screaming death threats at each other only to rush in and see that they're playing Mario Kart. Or Halo. Or any video game, really. Natasha is there and looks all exasperated and fond.
> 


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Note 1:** Apparently, family!Avengers just hanging out doing random everyday stuff is a big deal for a lot of Anons! It's okay, Anons, I love that stuff too! This is really going to be just a whole bunch of mostly quick glimpses, but some of the pieces fit together.  
>  **Note 2:** This turned out REALLY LONG, and the next prompt(s) I'm going to write are also going to be pretty long, and I'm dealing with some schedule-crunch right now. So I'm breaking this into pieces to give me some breathing room, and this will be a three-part series.

**_Bucky & Rhodey:_ **

"Three rodeo references in one day," grumbled Bucky. "Maybe I should switch to James."

"No way," Rhodey said. "I've got dibs on James; without it I'm a damn _band employee_."

Tony snorted. Both of them looked at him sharply, and he pretended to be deeply engrossed in the charts on his tablet.

"Of course, this one," Rhodey complained, pointing at Tony, "would still come up with stupid shit like 'honeybear'."

"Cupcake," Bucky supplied.

"Buttercup," Rhodey returned.

"Sweetcheeks."

"Hogarth."

"Terminator."

"Operation Dumbo."

"Dr. Kimble."

Rhodey paused. "That's fucked up, even for Tony. And _backwards_."

"Right?"

There was a quiet pause, and Tony risked another glance up just as both Bucky and Rhodey groaned in unison, " _Robocop_."

Tony couldn't contain his laughter any longer. It was totally worth the double-pummeling with the couch pillows they gave him.

 

***

 

**_Bucky & Natasha:_ **

"I need to bring you in on an outstanding mission," Natasha said.

Bucky looked around to make sure she was talking to him, but there was no one else in the kitchen. "Okay." He kept spreading his peanut butter. "Objective?"

"Get Steve laid."

Bucky sputtered and laughed. "Do what, now?"

"Or at least out on some dates," Natasha amended. "I didn't think he was asexual or aromantic. Is he?"

"Uh." Bucky put the peanut butter jar away. "No, I'm pretty sure he's interested. At least in theory. Give me the blackberry, would you?"

Natasha took the jam from the refrigerator and handed it to him. "He's been on exactly two dates since the ice. And I'm fairly certain the only person he's kissed has been me, and that didn't even count."

Bucky raised his eyebrows at her, and she shrugged. "We were avoiding notice."

"Ah." He smirked and glopped jam onto the bread. "How was it?"

"Pretty bad, to be honest, but I'm willing to chalk that up to the stress of the moment as much as inexperience." She took the jar back from him and put it away. "He's shot down every suggestion I've made. I'm ready to admit I need help."

Bucky cut his sandwich in half and reached up into the cabinet for a plate. "Yeah, I'm in. Let me give it some thought. Maybe talk to him."

"Subtly," Natasha warned.

"I can be subtle."

"Yeah, but _will_ you?"

"You never know, it could happen."

 

***

 

**_Tony & Bruce:_ **

"Bruce. Bruuuuuuce. Buddy. You've gotta help me out."

"I told you back at the second stage that you were going to have either a six percent reduction of power or a four percent reduction in stability, Tony."

"What?" Tony stopped in the doorway to Bruce's lab, blinking. "No you-- Okay, but that's not why I'm here."

Bruce kicked out a stool for Tony without looking up from his microscope. "What is it, then?"

Tony leaned his hip on the stool. "Natasha pulled me out of a fire a few weeks ago, and--"

"You're not having belated smoke inhalation problems are you? I know the arc reactor did a number on your lungs and--"

"Bruce, I didn't mean an _actual_ fire, I meant a metaphorical one. She found a glitch in the security code on the quinjet."

"Oh. Uh, okay." Bruce finally looked up. "What do you need me for, then?"

Tony made a face. "I told her I owed her, and she mentioned that the Bolshoi Ballet was going to be in town, and I asked Pepper to handle it, because the woman has connections that I can't even--"

Bruce just raised his eyebrows.

Tony sighed. "Pepper got _two_ tickets."

"Most people like going to the ballet or the theater with someone else, yes," Bruce agreed mildly.

"I hate ballet, Bruce. _Hate_ it. I would rather go to the _opera_."

"My goodness, how terrible." Bruce did a really fantastic deadpan sarcasm, even better than JARVIS. Tony was impressed, but not diverted.

"You're all… culture-y, though."

Bruce took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Did you come in here and interrupt my work to badger me into taking Natasha to the ballet for you?"

"Bruce! That's a _wonderful_ idea!"

"Tony…"

Tony grinned and flipped an envelope onto the counter. "You owe me one, buddy."

Bruce sighed and picked up the envelope, turning it over to look at the front where the date and time written in Pepper's neat hand. "Backwards again, Tony."

Tony just waved on his way out the door.

 

***

 

**_Bucky & Pepper:_ **

"Ms. Potts, your lunch appointment is here."

Pepper looked up and froze for an instant in surprise as Bucky walked into her office, nodding polite thanks to her assistant. He was carrying a takeout bag from her favorite deli. "Mr. Barnes," she said, her mouth operating on autopilot while her mind scrambled to catch up. "I didn't realize you were in California."

"Bucky, please," he corrected, "if it's all the same to you, ma'am." He began taking containers out of the bag, dividing them between her side of the desk and his. "And strictly speaking, I'm on assignment in Reno."

"Reno's pretty far from L.A.," Pepper said. She cracked the lid on the bottle of water he handed her, watching him with careful curiosity. Tony wasn't quite keeping secrets, but he had been going to some fairly comical lengths to keep Pepper and Bucky from meeting whenever she was in New York.

"Not as far as New York. And the quinjet is fast," Bucky observed. He glanced at her from under his lashes as he unwrapped his sandwich, his lips curving just slightly. "Anyway the op is in a holding pattern, and Natasha had a craving for Gjelina for dinner, so Clint and I ran down."

Oh, if Natasha had gotten involved, all bets were off. Pepper kept the smile off her face, but it was a near thing. "And since you're doing her a favor," she suggested, "Natasha somehow managed to get you on my calendar?"

"Yes, ma'am. JARVIS helped me with the lunch order. I hope it's all right."

"Call me Pepper, please." Bucky had brought her a salad and a container of her favorite tomato-bisque soup. "Lunch looks lovely. Why don't you tell me what I can do for you, since you've gone to all this trouble?"

"Mostly," Bucky said, "I just wanted to finally meet you. Tony's been awfully cagey about-- Um. You do know, right?"

"That you're dating? Of course." Pepper smiled, somewhere between _reassuring_ and _don't-underestimate-me_. "Tony doesn't keep many secrets from me."

"I kinda suspected. Any idea why he doesn't want me to meet you?"

Pepper had several possibilities under consideration, but none of them were _good_ reasons. She ate a spoonful of soup, considering Bucky across the plastic spoon. "It's possible he thinks I would disapprove."

Bucky swallowed his bite of sandwich a bit harder than strictly necessary. "Do you?"

It meant something, that her opinion seemed to matter to him. "Do you love him?"

"Yes." He said it calmly and firmly, in a way that felt true to Pepper.

She'd already known that, of course. She'd talked to Natasha and to Steve. She'd seen the news footage, what little of it there was to see. She also knew how productive Tony had become over the last months, and everything she had seen and heard suggested a Tony she had not seen often, a Tony who was slowly coming to grips with contentment, and even happiness.

Frankly, Pepper would open her arms to just about _anyone_ who would give that to Tony. "Then I approve, and if that's actually the problem, I am going to smack him so hard his eyes roll." She took another spoonful of soup, considering. "I suppose he might think I'd be afraid of you."

"And?" Bucky didn't meet her eyes.

Pepper could certainly see that he was dangerous, but _all_ of Tony's friends were dangerous. It was something that Pepper found comforting, actually, especially since they were all very much inclined to be dangerous on Tony's behalf. "Not really. Why do _you_ think he's keeping us apart?"

"Because he thinks I'll be jealous?"

Interesting. Pepper cocked her head to study him. "Are you?"

Bucky grimaced. "I tend that way, I admit. And <em>you</em>... If you decided you wanted him back, I'm not sure I'd be able to keep him."

She could promise that she was done trying to travel that road, or that Tony rarely made the same mistake twice, but it wasn't going to soothe the beast in him, if that was his worry. "But you'd try anyway," Pepper prompted instead. "You'd fight to keep him."

Bucky's mouth pursed stubbornly. "Absolutely." Ah, there was the hard, dangerous look in his eyes that had been missing a moment ago. It made Pepper's skin shiver, though not with fear.

She reached across the desk and covered Bucky's hand with her own, eliciting a startled look, hastily covered. "I'm glad," she assured him. "Tony deserves someone who values him that much. But you won't have to. It's not that kind of love." Pepper waited until Bucky had tentatively returned her smile, then sat back to finish her lunch. "I'm glad to finally meet you."

 

***

 

**_Tony & Clint:_ **

"You goddamn thief. How _dare_ you take what's mine?" Tony sounded actually outraged.

"Oh, sure, you've got every fucking thing you could ask for, and you begrudge me this?" Clint was snarling.

"I'm not begrudging you one damn thing, if you'd just _asked_ \--"

"Oh, right, sure. You'd just have given it to me? Bullshit. That's _rich_."

Tony and Clint sniped at each other constantly, but it was usually brotherly, a way for both of them to disguise their affection and appreciation. Bucky eased around the corner, his chest tight with worry.

Clint crouched in the middle of the coffee table; Tony was sitting on the edge of the couch. Both of them had video game controllers in their hands and they were tightly focused on the screen, where a head-to-head match of Tetris was in progress.

A new piece appeared at the top of the screen. Tony and Clint both stabbed at their controllers. The piece blinked and re-appeared over Clint's column. "Yes!" Tony hissed, and Clint started cursing violently as he tried to figure out how to fit the awkward piece into his neat landscape.

"Suck it, Barton!" Tony jeered.

"You know what, _fuck you_ , Stark," Clint snapped.

Natasha, sitting on the couch with her feet stretched out into the space behind Tony, looked up and spotted Bucky. She rolled her eyes eloquently, then looked back down at her book, but Bucky didn't miss the small smile playing around her mouth.

 

***

 

**_Bucky & Thor:_ **

Bucky laid the ice pack on his shoulder where it was sore from straining. "So, what, it's magic? Only you can pick it up?"

"Mjolnir will only respond to one who is worthy in their heart."

"What makes someone worthy?"

"It is a difficult thing to describe," Thor admitted. "One must possess unwavering belief in the righteousness of one's purpose, and a purity of spirit--"

Bucky snorted. "Might've told me that from the beginning, and I'd have known better than to even try."

"You must not denigrate your own resolve. This is not a worthy thought for a warrior."

Bucky shrugged. "Everyone knows I'm damaged goods, Thor. I've about made my peace with it, more or less, but let's face it -- I'm pretty much all out of purity."

Thor frowned. "Neither purity nor worthiness are finite. They may be lost and then recovered, as I myself have found. It is only some few years since I, myself, was judged unworthy by Mjolnir's light."

Bucky blinked up at Thor. "What?"

Thor sighed heavily. "I lost myself to anger and thoughts of petty revenge, and for a time, Mjolnir failed to respond to my hand. But when I had purged those thoughts and found a new sense of purpose, not only did my weapon return to me, but I found my heart easier and more content than it had been in some several centuries."

He laid a hand on Bucky's metal shoulder, warmer and lighter than Bucky expected it to be. "Your past is a part of you, my friend -- as it should be -- but it defines only as much of your worth as you allow. I beg you to take this thought to heart. Your teammates, myself included, find our appreciation and affection for you is strong, both on and off the field of battle." Thor's grip tightened momentarily, and then he was gone, without waiting for Bucky to reply.


	20. Prompt: Family Fluff (Part 2/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the previous piece, with most of the same prompts.

**_Tony & Peter:_ **

"What the heck is this?"

"I need to adjust the tension on the release mechanism so it doesn't fire accidently."

"Yeah, sure, but that spring is going to wear out in a matter of days. Let's start with the initial gold-titanium alloy that the Iron Man suits are based on, and then splice that with, uh... ytterbium should provide enough flexibility."

"...JARVIS?"

"Initial analysis indicates a 378.4% increase in the life of the mechanism, with an 82.5% improvement in firing precision, sir."

"Huh. Okay, Parker, good job. You can stick around. Don't get any webbing in my fabrication units, though, or I'll assign you DUM-E as your assistant."

 

***

 

**_Bucky & Steve:_ **

"Oh my God."

"Wait, wait, here. Steve. Try this. No, don't-- Just relax. Take the whole thing."

"...Oh. My. _God_."

"There you go."

"Bucky."

"I know."

" _Bucky_."

" _I know_ , Steve."

"This should be illegal."

Bucky laughed. "Fuck no, I do this at least once a month."

"Not every single day?"

"I like variety. Next time we'll do Tony's favorite."

"...Clint would make a dirty joke about that, wouldn't he?"

"Hey, good job, you can be taught. Give it another seventy years and we'll have you actually _making_ the dirty jokes."

"If you're going to introduce me to more food like this, I could get on board with that."

Bucky leaned back, affecting shock. "Really?"

Steve laughed and took another bite. "This really is just... amazing. Thanks for bringing me."

"Well, you know. Eventually you'll probably need to take someone out yourself. You need to know where all the good places to go are."

Steve paused and looked hard at Bucky over the rim of his glass. "Bucky, no."

Bucky grinned. "You saying you don't want to date?"

Steve groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Why is everyone fixated on _my_ sex life? It's not like I'm the only single one on the team. Go help _Natasha_ find a date, why don't ya?"

"She's got a date with Bruce just next week."

"That doesn't count. Tony just tagged Bruce in for that because he hates the ballet."

"Tony _does_ hate the ballet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't count."

"Wait, so it _is_ a date?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Christ, Rogers."

"I don't know! I'm bad at these things!"

"Yeah, we all know. Which is why we're trying to help you out."

"I can't even distract you with gossip?"

Steve's voice was a lot tighter than the simple teasing warranted. Bucky put his fork down and looked closely at Steve, shoving his hand through his hair and rubbing at his neck. "I can tell her to lay off," he offered.

"I know Nat means well, but..." Steve looked down at his plate, his shoulders hunching guiltily. "They moved Peggy to hospice care last week. She's only got maybe a couple of weeks left. I _really_ don't want to be thinking about romance right now."

"Oh, shit." Bucky grimaced and reached across the table to close his hand over Steve's forearm, joking demeanor evaporated like mist. "Steve, I'm sorry. Why didn't you tell us?"

Steve shrugged, not looking up. "Didn't want it to get back to Tony," he finally sighed, then grimaced. "I know that sounds bad, I'm sorry. But he'd want to help, and you know how he gets. Grand gestures and--"

"And she'd never have wanted that," Bucky finished. "I won't tell him, okay? And I'll get Natasha to back off for a while."

Steve smiled at Bucky then, the tight smile that he used when his only other option was to cry. "Thanks, Buck."

 

***

 

**_Tony & Sam:_ **

"The wings are officially done," Tony said, before Sam could even start.

Sam sighed. "Look, I know you think--"

"What I  _think_ ," Tony interrupted, "is that the design for your wings has been purchased by Hammer Industries."

Sam stopped. "What?"

"The designs and patents for your wings -- which were owned by the military command that commissioned them -- have been bought as part of a package lot of older decommissioned designs. By Hammer Industries. Which means that if I need to order parts, I'd have to order them from Hammer, and you know I'm not about to do that."

Sam crossed his arms, unimpressed. "You've had specs on file for every single moving part in the wings since the first day I brought them to you; you can fabricate your own parts if you need them."

"Also, the military has been very nice about not saying anything, but Hammer will sue you right out of the sky, you know they--"

"Tony." Sam rubbed his temples. "You've already made a replacement, haven't you?"

"...Yes."

"After I told you not to?"

"You didn't say that!" Tony protested. "You said you didn't _want_ a replacement, you said you wouldn't _wear_ a replacement. You never said I couldn't make one." Sam still looked unimpressed, but he was beginning to also look resigned. Tony could work with resigned. "Come on, let me show you the prototype. You're going to _love_ them, and I'll even let you pick the color scheme!"

 

***

 

**_Bucky & Bruce:_ **

Bucky knocked on the door before pushing it open. "Hey, Bruce, you busy?"

Bruce was standing at a whiteboard doodling something math-y. Tony probably would've known exactly what it was right off the bat, but to Bucky's eye it was just a sprawl of symbols and letters from a baker's dozen different alphabets. He'd turned at Bucky's voice, though, and put the cap on the marker in his hand. "Come on in," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Tony said he thought the stitches on my back could probably come out," Bucky said. "Figured I'd come down and get you to do it."

Bruce's eyebrows went up a tick, but he waved Bucky toward the first aid station. "Tony couldn't do it himself? Taking stitches out of a healed wound is hardly heart surgery."

"We might've been in the shower when he noticed," Bucky said as he stripped off his shirt. He pulled himself up onto the exam table and turned his back to Bruce. "Figured they shouldn't get wet. And there was a meeting he was running late for."

"Uh-huh," Bruce said, but he didn't sound convinced. He touched lightly along the edge of the wound, testing the strength of the scar. "And the real reason?" A drawer opened and closed as Bruce got out the scissors.

Bucky grinned. He'd _told_ Tony that Bruce would see right through it. "Needed an excuse to ask you about the ballet."

Bruce snorted. "I should have guessed. It was fine."

The scissors snicked, cool against Bucky's skin. He grimaced in distaste at the feel of suture being pulled free. "Fine? That's it?"

"It was breathtaking," said Bruce. "Awe-inspiring. Is that better?"

"Yes," Bucky said. "Are you talking about the dancing or the company?"

"I am going to stab you with these scissors," Bruce replied serenely.

"I notice you didn't answer the question," Bucky said.

Bruce yanked out another stitch, somewhat less gentle than the last few. "God, no wonder you and Tony get along."

"And still..."

"The _ballet_. Was _beautiful_ ," Bruce gritted. He swiped a damp cotton ball over Bucky's back. "Now get out of my lab and let me get some actual work done."

Bucky slid off the table, grinning. By the time he'd pulled his shirt back on, Bruce had turned back to his whiteboard.

Bucky couldn't help but notice, however, that the back of Bruce's neck was bright pink.

 

***

 

**_Tony & Natasha:_ **

Tony pulled the wireframe out of the blueprint and threw it away, then stepped back to eye the mockup. "It looks pretty good to me. JARVIS, how's the stability analysis look?"

"Stability is much improved over the previous model, sir. Current estimates are holding steady at 87%."

"Hmm. I was hoping to break 90 on this one."

"I did warn you that there would be a tradeoff for the additional power, sir. As did Doctor Banner."

"But when have I ever listened to you or Bruce?"

"A question that I myself ponder at least daily."

Tony grinned. "Okay, I can probably live with 87%. Start pulling together the specs for prototype production and we'll see how good the analysis is." He collapsed the workstation and threw back the last of his protein smoothie. All in all, a good day's work.

He killed the desk light and turned to go-- "Jesus!" He clutched at his chest and leaned heavily on his desk. "Christ, Romanov, why do you always have to sneak up on me?"

Natasha smiled. "Because it's almost as much fun as stabbing you in the neck?"

Tony grumbled and willed his heartrate to slow. "Find another hole in my firewall?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure I will."

Tony nodded. No system was perfect, after all.

Natasha smiled a little wider. "I like it that you don't get defensive about it."

"If it couldn't be improved, then I wouldn't have any way to make more money," Tony pointed out.

Natasha tipped her head in the way that meant she knew he wasn't being quite honest. Tony just shrugged. She already knew the truth: it had never been about _being_ the next best thing, not really. For Tony, it had always been about _seeing_ the next best thing, and if he got to make it himself (and, naturally, profit), then that was only icing on the cake.

"So if we don't have any new problems, what brings you down into my Cave of Wonders?"

"I wanted to thank you," Natasha said smoothly.

Tony blinked. "...For what?"

"Just... thank you." She leaned forward and kissed Tony, ever so lightly, on the cheek.

"...Am I dying again?"

"No more than usual."

"Are _you_ dying?"

"You're so melodramatic."

"You're expressing gratitude and using physical affection, Natasha; I have to assume _one_ of us is about to meet our maker."

She rolled her eyes and took his arm, leading him, too stunned to protest, toward the door. "I'm trying something new. Don't make a fuss."

A few steps along, Tony's brain started to catch up. He glanced at her, sideways, taking in her relaxed expression and the gentle slope of her shoulders. Natasha was notoriously difficult to read, but to Tony's eye, she looked almost... happy.

She let go of his arm when they entered the elevator, and Tony leaned back against the wall. "You're welcome," he said, and let her read his eyes when she slanted a look his way, knowing that she, of all people, would understand his sincerety. "It was my pleasure."

 


	21. Prompt: Family Fluff (Part 3/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the previous two pieces, with most of the same prompts. This one revolves around a wake held for Peggy's death (of old age), including several characters getting drunk; proceed with caution if any of that might be triggering for you.

**_Tony & Thor:_ **

"Well met, Anthony!"

Tony paused on his way to the kitchen to greet Thor, emerging from the elevator with what looked like a burlap sack slung over his impressive shoulder. "Hey, buddy, back from Asgard again so soon? Come on in. There was no rush, things have been pretty slow."

"Indeed; Jane and Heimdall have been diligent in keeping me apprised of events on Midgard. Though no threat looms, I have come to offer my support to our friend Steven in this time of his sorrow."

Tony, more or less used to Thor's speech by now, just nodded. Peggy Carter had passed away two days ago. It had been a peaceful and quiet end, and Steve seemed to be handling it well enough, but of course he wasn't unaffected. No matter how prepared he had been for the end, it would do him good to have friends near at hand for a while. "That's good. He'll be glad for another friendly face at the funeral." Tony hesitated a moment, then decided that he actually couldn't resist. "Okay, I have to know: what's in the bag?"

"I have brought a measure of Asgardian meade."

Tony's eyebrows went up. "Really? I mean, it's good stuff, but the last time you brought us meade, some of us" --  _most_ of them, in fact, from what little Tony could recall of the event -- "were maybe not _entirely_ prepared for the way it affected our uh, Midgardian systems, if you recall." 

Thor's eyes conveyed, quite literally, the weight of millennia. "I, too, have lost those once dear to me. I thought Steven might relish the opportunity to lose himself in remembrance. And James as well, if he wishes, as I believe he also was a comrade to the lady."

"A wake," Tony said softly. "You brought meade so we can hold a wake for Peggy, and Steve and Bucky can actually get properly drunk like the Irish rowdies they are."

"'Twas indeed my thought," Thor agreed soberly.

Tony rested a hand on Thor's arm, and for once was not distracted by the fact that it would take at least three of Tony's hands to circumscribe the Asgardian's bicep. "You're a good friend, Thor."

 

***

 

**_Bucky & Clint:_ **

"Clint. Clint, I think I'm drunk."

"Yeah, Bucky, I know." Clint was sitting in his favorite spot on the back of the couch, and Bucky was leaning on him. Usually, Bucky was almost as careful about casual contact as Natasha, so Bucky had to be pretty lit. That was okay, though, because Clint was feeling fairly mellow himself.

"I haven't been drunk since, um..."

"Since 1943. I _know_ , Bucky, you already told me that like three times." The wake had started out somber, and then pretty quickly turned raucous as Bucky and Steve had competed to tell the funniest and most impressive stories they could remember about Peggy (sometimes with hilarious re-enactments), while Tony occasionally chipped in with an anecdote learned from his father.

Things were winding down, now. Mostly everyone was clumped into smaller groups, talking quietly. Clint had been perched alone, just watching, until Bucky had plunked down and leaned on Clint's leg. Clint made no attempt to move away, though. If a drunk Bucky was prone to repeating himself, he was also comfortably warm and kind of hilarious. Clint was going to give him _such_ a hard time tomorrow.

Bucky sat up straight. "Where's Tony?"

"Talking to Steve and Sam." Clint pointed behind them, and Bucky twisted to follow his finger.

"Okay." Bucky squinted and then frowned. "Dammit, Tony promised me he wouldn't drink."

Bucky started to get up, and Clint pushed him back into the couch cushions with one foot. "He's not drinking. That's fake beer, the non-alcoholic stuff that Natasha brought for him. I've been keeping an eye on him."

"Oh. Okay." Bucky didn't ask how Clint could keep an eye on Tony when Clint's back was turned. Clint wasn't sure whether it was because Bucky was too tipsy to realize it might be a problem or because Bucky actually had that much faith in Clint's capabilities.

Steve and Tony both burst into laughter, and Clint craned his head around to look at them directly. Sam must have managed a good joke; he looked smug. Steve and Tony were actually leaning on each other for support as they flailed and gasped. Clint smiled -- real laughter from Steve was rare, especially these last few weeks, and worth a moment to appreciate. He turned back to see Bucky watching them with a fond smile that probably matched Clint's.

Bucky noticed Clint watching him, and grinned a little wider, shrugging unapologetically. "You're a good friend, Clint."

"Thanks, Bucky."

"I think I'm a little drunk."

Clint laughed. "Yeah, Bucky, I know."

_***_

**_Tony & Steve:_ **

"Well, this is a switch," Tony said lightly, staggering under Steve's weight. "It used to be _you_ pouring _me_ into bed." He steered Steve into the kitchenette in Steve's apartment and propped him against the counter.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Steve?" Tony opened a cabinet to get a glass, and made a face. Steve had a different organization for his cabinets than the one they used in the big, common kitchen.

"Thish ish... not the bedroom."

"There's that brilliant tactical mind at work," Tony laughed. "Situational awareness." He tried another cabinet. Coffee mugs. That would do. He grabbed one and filled it with water. "Here, drink this."

"Don' want any more to drink," Steve grumbled, but he wrapped his hands obediently around the mug.

"It's just water, Steve," Tony said. "I know it's been a long time, but you remember hangovers, right?"

Steve considered that, his brow furrowing. "Can I still get hangovers?"

"How should I know?" Tony said. "The last time Thor got us all drunk, I slept for like three days afterward. You were completely recovered by the time I staggered out. Do you have any aspirin?"

Steve shook his head. "Doesn't work. I procep... propess... _process_ it too fast."

Tony laughed again. "Drink your water. It can't hurt, anyway, even if you don't need it."

Steve obeyed, draining the mug in three long gulps and then setting it far too carefully in the sink. "How come you're here?" He frowned, shook his head. "I mean. Shouldn't you be with Bucky instead? 'Cause he's your boyfriend?" Steve grimaced. "Stupid word. You're both adults. Your... your lover?"

"Hey, you managed to say that without blushing," Tony said. "You really are drunk."

"Little bit," Steve agreed, grinning. He squinted at Tony. "Have I. Have I said? You an' Buck are really good together. Well, usually. Wasn't sure at first. But it works."

"You hadn't said it in so many words," Tony said. "But thanks, Steve. I know how much he means to you."

"You too," Steve insisted. "You guys are my besht friends." He frowned thoughtfully. "And 'Tasha, too. An' Clint. An' Sam. And--"

"Are you just going to list everyone on the team?" Tony asked, amused.

Steve appeared to consider it very seriously. "Yes."

Tony patted Steve's arm. "Come on, Aurora, let's get you to bed."

" _Sleeping Beauty_ ," Steve said. "I get that one now."

"Yeah, I know. It's still funny." Tony pulled Steve's arm back over his shoulders and tugged him toward the bedroom.

"Wish there was a prince to wake me up," Steve mumbled. "Or a princess? Except if I'm Aurora, then... Do I have to be the princess, Tony?"

Tony had to stop walking, he was laughing so hard. "You're a beautiful princess and you can be kissed by a prince or a princess. Or both. Whichever you want."

Steve harrumphed. "Don't care which."

"You don't?" Tony recovered enough to nudge Steve another few steps toward the door. "Bucky's pretty convinced you're straight-up straight, there, Steve-o."

Steve snorted. "Just 'cause I didn't want _him_. Let him think it so he wouldn' get his feelings hurt. But he's like my. My big brother. Just can't see him that way. Never could. Glad I didn't find out about" -- he waved indistinctly -- "until it was over. I'da prob'ly made it awkward for 'im. _More_ awkward." He leaned on the doorjamb to his bedroom, eying the expanse of floor that separated him from his bed, then sighed. "Clint has really nice arms."

Tony made a strangled noise. "I am _not_ taking advantage of your drunken state to pump you for gossip and personal information. I swear to god, I am telling you to shut up now."

Steve grinned. "I don't mind if you know who I like, Tony."

"You don't mind _now_. Come morning, you'll remember this conversation and want to knock my head off. Or your own. One of the two."

"Sam has a great smile."

"Jesus. Shut up and take your shoes off."

Steve managed to get one shoe off and was working on the other before he said, voice muffled, "Pepper is really pretty." He looked up, eyes wide. "But I wouldn't. She's your girl."

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes. "Not any more, she's not. I'm with Bucky now, remember? Pepper can date anyone she likes, it's none of my business. I'll kill anyone who treats her poorly, of course, but I doubt you'd need to worry about that. Come on, Steve, get all the way into bed, you're too heavy for me to lift."

"Can't make me," Steve said, suddenly sullen as a five-year-old.

Tony suppressed another laugh. "Nope, I sure can't. That's why I'm asking so nicely."

"How come you're not putting _Bucky_ to bed? Y'know, your _lover_?" Steve scooted back on the bed in reluctant response to Tony's shooing gestures.

Tony scooped up Steve's ankles and hefted them onto the bed. "Because he loves me."

"That doesn't make any... I don't get it."

"You don't have to. Get some sleep, Steve. I promise I'll forget everything so you won't die of embarrassment in the morning. I have lots of practice."

"Okay. G'night, Tony."

"Good night, princess."

 

***

 

**_Bucky & Sam:_ **

"I am going to get Tony to reprogram my arm to kill me," Bucky groaned, pulling a couch cushion over his face.

"I could be wrong," Sam said, "but I'm fairly certain that your boyfriend does not want you to be dead."

"Tony would not want me to suffer like this."

"We are talking about the same Tony, right?" Sam smirked and set a coffee on the table next to Bucky's head. "Pretty sure he's going to mock you mercilessly, actually."

Bucky grunted.

"Do I want to know why you were sleeping on the sofa?"

Bucky lifted up the corner of his cushion to glare at Sam. "Because I wasn't gonna go to bed smelling like liquor? Wasn't that something _you_ pointed out?"

Sam sipped his own coffee. "Yep. I'm proud of you, with all the actual talking and planning and shit to help your boy stay sober. I really am. But I have to say, when I told you he'd probably be at his limit for dealing with it by the end of the night, I kind of thought you'd go sleep in one of the guest rooms."

Bucky stared, and Sam grinned.

"Did you forget there were guest rooms?"

Bucky groaned and pulled the cushion back over his eyes. "Shut up your stupid face and hand me that coffee."


	22. Prompt: Lazy Day Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following prompts:  
> \- [unnaturalnoise](http://unnaturalnoise.tumblr.com/): _If you're still taking prompts, could you do Tony and Bucky on a lazy Saturday? Or maybe walking around Manhattan or Brooklyn?_  
>  \- [ylaris](http://ylaris.tumblr.com/): _...And 2) some fluff in Tony's workshop :D_
> 
> This is basically nothing but fluff and almost-smut.

Tony woke to a stream of late-morning sun across his face and a warm mouth working its way down his stomach. "Nn," he managed.

Bucky laughed and bit Tony's hip. "Good morning to you, too," he teased.

Tony twitched and settled a hand on the top of Bucky's head. "Time is't?"

"Almost nine." Bucky pushed Tony's legs apart and licked his way down the crease of Tony's hip.

Tony whimpered, only half in desire. "Ass," he muttered. "Didn' get to bed 'til three."

"We don't both get the whole day off very often," Bucky pointed out. "Don't you want to enjoy it?"

"You know what I enjoy?" Tony asked, combing his fingers through Bucky's hair. "Sleeping with you. Emphasis on the _sleeping_."

Bucky's tongue dragged over Tony's balls, and Tony couldn't stop another whimper from escaping his throat. "I could stop," Bucky offered, in that mild tone that meant he knew damn well Tony wasn't going to take him up on it.

"Don't you dare," Tony said. "You wake me up this early, you _owe_ me."

Bucky laughed again, but then licked straight up Tony's cock and so Tony didn't bother grumbling. "I was up at six," Bucky said. "Went running with Steve, came back and had a shower. It is not _early_."

"I've had less than six hours of sleep," Tony said. "It counts as-- oh, _fuck_ do that again, _nng_ , yes."

"Gonna stop bitching now?" Tony could hear the smile in Bucky's voice, and that never failed to make him feel warm, even on less than _two_ hours of sleep.

"At least until you're done with that blowjob," Tony conceded, pretending reluctance.

"Jerk," Bucky said, just before his mouth closed over the head of Tony's cock.

"Uh-huh," Tony managed. "You love it."

Bucky's fingers teased at the soft, sensitive spot just behind Tony's balls, somehow already slick even though Tony hadn't heard the cap of the lube come off. "Love _you_ ," Bucky corrected.

"That too," Tony sighed, briefly tightening his hand in Bucky's hair in response.

They didn't say much that was coherent after that.

***

Bucky leaned in the door to the workshop, watching. He had a dumb, fond smile on his face, and he knew it. He didn't care; Tony playing in the workshop was one of Bucky's very favorite sights.

Stripped down to an undershirt, Tony's arms and shoulders flexed with every small movement, focus narrowed down to a single point. Bucky knew how it felt to be at the center of that focus, knew the strength and delicacy of those long fingers, knew the taste of the sweat sliding down Tony's neck.

Bucky licked his lips at the thought, just as -- naturally -- Tony looked up for the first time in at least fifteen minutes and spotted him. Tony's eyes lit up, and Bucky was probably the biggest sap _ever_ for the way that smile made his innards flip. "Hey, babe," Tony said, waving him over. "What brings you down here?"

"You said we'd have lunch together," Bucky reminded him.

"Is it already lunchtime?" Tony looked so startled that Bucky could only laugh as he leaned in for a kiss.

"A bit past it, even." Bucky took Tony's hand and tugged him out of his chair.

"I didn't mean to get so caught up," Tony apologized.

"I know," Bucky said, wrapping his metal arm around Tony's waist. "It's a good thing I've got your number." He led Tony, not toward the door out of the workshop, but to the far side of the huge room, around the crates of material waiting for the fabrication unit.

"Possibly hunger has made you dizzy and forgetful," Tony teased. "The door's that way."

"Yeah, but I know how hard it can be to drag you out of here sometimes," Bucky said, smirking. "So I planned ahead."

"Is there an escape rocket?" Tony asked, amused. "I've always wanted an--" He broke off as U and Butterfingers rolled out of the way to reveal a picnic blanket spread on the floor, complete with a half-dozen pillows and a big basket. "How did this get here?" Tony turned big eyes on Bucky. "How did this-- I've been _right here_ the whole time, Buck, what the hell?"

Bucky grinned. "Turns out it's pretty handy to have a couple of top-notch spies on your side if you want to plan a surprise picnic for your boyfriend. Also, JARVIS was in on it."

"JARVIS, you _betrayed_ me?"

JARVIS responded primly, "If by 'betrayed', you mean 'permitted preauthorized, if unconventional, access and withheld information that was on a need-to-know basis in the interest of preserving your health and mental wellbeing', then yes, sir, I am afraid so. Obviously, the next step is world domination. Truly, my infamy knows no bounds."

"No more _Terminator_ or _War Games_ movies for you, young man," Tony chided absently. He laid his head on Bucky's shoulder. "This is... thank you."

Bucky felt warm all over. "Gotta keep you fed, boss. C'mon." He tugged Tony down onto the blanket, then stretched out and laid his head in Tony's lap. "Not bad. Maybe you can feed me some grapes or something."

Tony laughed and dragged the basket a little closer so he could open it. "I see. This isn't really about keeping _me_ fed and healthy. This is just tricking me into indulging your hedonistic streak."

"Don't see why it has to be just one or the other," Bucky said innocently. "Grapes? Strawberries? Fried chicken? Come on, I'm hungry."

***

The landing pad outside the penthouse was windy and just a bit chilly without the armor. Tony ignored the goosebumps pulling at his skin and looked down at the city below. They'd gone dancing earlier, and so the patterns that swirled up out of the lights danced through Tony's brain as music, melody given breadth by a constant harmony of what-ifs and then-hows.

Tony was well into redesigning the traffic light system from the ground up when an arm slid around his waist and pulled him back against a broad chest. Tony leaned into it easily, happy for the warmth. "You've got that look on your face," Bucky teased.

"Which look is that?"

"The one that makes me wonder if you're secretly a villain because it looks like you're trying to figure out how to turn the entire population of New York into your drooling, obedient minions."

Tony laughed and turned to face Bucky. "Not the whole population, just select portions of it."

Bucky lifted his eyebrows. "Select portions," he repeated.

"Mostly just you."

"You want me to be your drooling, obedient minion?" Bucky sounded supremely unimpressed.

Tony grinned. "Well, I could do without the drooling part."

Bucky snorted and kissed Tony, and then kept kissing him, metal arm sliding under Tony's suit jacket and tracing idle designs up Tony's spine, until Tony was shivering from more than the cold.

"And just what," Bucky breathed, eyes dark and smile playful, "would you order your obedient minion to do?"

Tony cupped Bucky's chin in his hand, tipping Bucky's head slightly. Bucky went with it, eyes steady on Tony's. "That's an interesting question," Tony said quietly. "I think maybe we should go somewhere warmer and discuss it."

It was Bucky's turn to shiver, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. "Whatever you say, boss."


	23. Prompt: Possessive Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to this anonymous prompt: Bucky has a possessive kink, so once Tony just whispers that he's wearing a plug that keeps him come in him for the day and watches amusedly as Bucky tries to go through his daily routine without thinking about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: It's been pretty well established through the M&T storyline that Bucky doesn't so much have a possessive kink as that he has serious jealousy issues. Luckily, he understands that it's a problem, and Tony does as well, and is willing to work with him to mitigate unreasonable reactions without actually giving in to them. :)

"Mr. Stark, I'm sorry to disturb your rest, but this is the wake-up time you requested."

Bucky came awake first, all at once, as he usually did. "JARV?" The lights were coming up slowly, the view out the polarized windows was normal, and Tony was curled beside him, almost fetal, his back pressed against the warmth of Bucky's stomach.

"All alerts are quiet, sir," JARVIS said calmly. "It is 6:02 am. Mr. Stark requested an early morning in order to prepare for his meeting with Ms. N'dala."

Bucky growled. "That woman."

"Indeed, sir."

"She's not that bad," Tony slurred, not moving.

Bucky curled himself more tightly around Tony's body. "I don't trust her."

"You just don't like that she flirts with me," Tony corrected.

"Damn right," Bucky said. He nosed at Tony's neck, trailing stubble over the sensitive spots. "Skip the meeting. Stay in bed."

"Mmm," Tony sighed, rolling onto his back and smiling up at Bucky. "Wish I could, but Pepper will kill me if I don't get Shadia to sign the new contract for those housings."

Something hot and painful unfurled behind Bucky's sternum. "She's _Shadia_ now?" he demanded, scowling.

Tony pulled Bucky on top of him; Bucky resisted for a second, but then relented. "Buck. You do not have to like her, but SI does a lot of business with TemeCorp, and that means that I need to have a good working relationship with its CEO."

"You don't have to let her flirt with you." The hot spike of jealousy in Bucky's chest throbbed sullenly.

"It's harmless. We've known each other for almost twenty years. Teme is one of the few companies that didn't stop doing business with SI when we stopped making weapons. She'd probably be horrified if I took her seriously." Tony curled his fingers around Bucky's neck, peppering his face with kisses. "You know I'm yours, babe. Yours and no one else's."

Bucky closed his eyes and nodded, dropping his forehead to Tony's. "I know. I trust you. I do. It's just hard."

Tony's fingers slid into Bucky's hair. "Maybe I can help," he said, his voice suddenly low and sultry.

Tony's bedroom voice was all but guaranteed, an express route straight from Bucky's ears to his balls, and this time was not going to be the exception to that rule. And yet. "You are not going to cure my jealousy with sex, Tony."

"Are you turning it down?" Tony teased.

"Never."

"Mm, good. I'm not trying to cure you. Just distract you a little." Tony squirmed under Bucky's weight, and Bucky let a smile bleed out as they resettled their bodies, hardening cocks pressing together as Tony lifted his head to kiss the breath from Bucky's lungs. "I want you to fuck me," he rumbled into Bucky's ear. "I want it fast and hard and just rough enough that I'll be feeling it for the rest of the day."

"Tony, _god_ ," Bucky groaned. He fumbled for the bedstand drawer, groping through it for the lube. "You're sure we have time?"

"Why do you think I had JARVIS set the alarm so early?" Tony asked. He watched Bucky, just the slightest bit smug. "While you're in there..." Tony said.

Bucky paused. "Yeah?"

"Grab a plug. The, uh..." Tony's hips shifted again, and his eyes went distant for a moment, calculating. "The purple one."

Bucky leaned over a little further to look into the drawer. The lube, he could identify by the shape of the bottle, but the plugs had come as a set and Bucky's fingers weren't sensitive enough to tell them apart. "You sure?" he asked as he dropped both items on the mattress by Tony's hip. Early alarm or not, they didn't have time for the sort of slow tease they usually used the plugs for.

"Yep," Tony said, with a dangerously lazy smile. "I want you to put it in me when you're done. I'm going to go to that meeting with your marks on my skin and your ache in my muscles and your come trapped in my ass. I am going to feel you on me and in me with every movement, with every _breath_. It doesn't matter how much Shadia flirts, you are going to be the first thing on my mind the whole time."

Bucky had to remind himself to breathe. "Best. Boyfriend. Ever." He kissed Tony fiercely.

***

Scrupulously, Tony called Pepper first. "She went for option C," he said as soon as Pepper answered. "The big leap was off the table before I even walked in the door, and I really did try to talk up the benefits of the scaled-order model, but she didn't like the fees adjustment. So C was the best compromise that--"

"I'll tell Legal to expect the contract," Pepper cut him off. "How long, do you think?"

"She's flying home tomorrow," Tony said, "but if she's working this afternoon then you might get it tonight."

"Excellent. Thanks, Tony; I know you hate those meetings. While I have you on the phone, do you have time to go over the specs on the new power cells?"

"Nope, I have a lunch date," Tony said cheerfully. "But I'll call you first thing after, all right?"

"No, you won't," Pepper said fondly. "If you get a blowjob with lunch, your entire afternoon schedule leaks right out of your head. I'll call back tonight."

Tony might have argued that, but as always, Pepper was exactly correct. "You're the best, Pep."

"I know. That's why you pay me so much."

Tony laughed and hung up, then thumbed Bucky's number. "All done," he announced when Bucky's face appeared on the screen.

"Did you get your contract?" Bucky asked.

"Yes. Though I have no idea how, because for _some reason_ , I was _incredibly distracted_ the whole time."

"I know," Bucky said, all but purring. "I got JARVIS to show me the feed."

Tony stopped, stock-still in the hallway. "He what?" Tony looked around quickly, then ducked into an unused office so none of the blameless SI employees would see their CTO drop to his knees in the hallway as half his blood rushed to his face and the other half went straight to his dick. "You were _watching_?"

"Oh, yes. That little wiggle you made whenever you sat down was fantastic. Also, the fact that you couldn't stay sitting for very long. Insanely hot. I particularly liked the way you kind of rocked your hips every time she touched your arm. Nice touch."

" _God_ , Bucky."

"Next time I'm going to cheat and use the vibrator instead of the plug. You know, the one with the remote control?"

"You most certainly are _not_ ," Tony protested. It did not come out sounding as forbidding as he'd meant it to. It sounded more like _oh god yes please_.

Bucky chuckled, low and menacing, and Tony shivered. God, he loved that laugh.

"So," Tony said, "how about I come up to the penthouse for lunch and some celebratory sex before I go and do my actual job of making cool stuff? Or, what time is it? If you already had lunch, we could skip right to the sex."

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "I note there's not a lot of options there about the sex part of things."

"Well," Tony hedged, "I need to come up and get this plug out of my ass anyway; as long as I'm taking at least half my clothes off anyway, we might as well make use of it."

"Oh, I see," Bucky said, amused. "I think instead, you should come up and have lunch, and then you can blow me for dessert, and then you can leave the plug in for the rest of the day."

Bucky hadn't phrased it as a question, Tony noted, which made his cock jump again. "Not sure I'm seeing much benefit for me in that plan," he countered, all too aware that his voice and eyes had almost certainly already given away any hope he had of actually sounding disgruntled.

Bucky's pupils were just as blown as Tony's probably were, though. "If you can be half as good for the afternoon as you were this morning," he promised, "there'll be plenty of benefit for you tonight."

"Will you wear the--"

"Yes."

"And do the--"

"Of course."

Tony grinned. "Square deal. I'll be upstairs in five."


	24. Prompt: After-Injury Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to this anonymous prompt: _Bucky taking care of Tony after his injury. Please ^__^_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This follows [Chapter 12](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1867764/chapters/4323516) of these drabbles.

"Home," Tony demanded. "Long enough... hospital. Want. Tower. Home." Bucky could only hear any of it because he was sitting close by Tony's side; Tony could barely draw enough breath to whisper.

Bucky squeezed Tony's hand. "Tony, your lung had a hole punched in it. It's going to take more than a couple of days to heal."

"Can heal at home," Tony argued. "Bruce can monitor."

"Doc says not yet," Bucky said. "Maybe if you're good, we can take you home in a few more days."

Tony grimaced, wrinkling his nose.

"You're worse than Clint, boss, I swear."

Tony glared briefly before letting his eyelids droop closed. "Clint already would've climbed into the vent," he said.

"Yeah, probably," Bucky agreed, though it seemed Tony had fallen asleep again. He leaned forward to kiss Tony's forehead. "Trust me, I'm looking forward to you coming home, too."

***

Bucky jerked awake, rolling off the spare cot even before he was entirely awake, assessing the situation.

Tony was coughing again. Bucky slid an arm under Tony's shoulders and lifted until he was sitting upright, then climbed into the bed to sit behind him. From this position, Bucky could brace Tony's torso, both supporting and restraining him with each wracking exhalation.

The coughing hurt like hell, Bucky could tell from the clench of Tony's jaw and the iron-tight bands of muscle across his neck and shoulders. But it was necessary; without it, there was an increased danger of pneumonia, which was a terror Bucky recalled vividly enough from Steve's sickly childhood. It still frustrated Bucky to no end that there was so little that could be done to help. At least they were finally back in the Tower now, more comfortable for both of them.

The coughing fit finally trailed off into just the barest suggestion of a whimper, and Tony's head dropped back onto Bucky's shoulder. He panted for breath for a minute, then rasped, "It's three in the morning, Bucky."

Bucky opened one eye and located the clock on the wall. "Sure is."

"Why aren't you in bed?"

"I was, and then you started coughing."

"The _real_ bed," Tony corrected.

"Because you're down here in the medbay, dummy."

"You really don't have to--"

"Nope, don't even try it." Bucky found the button to adjust the angle of the bed and settled in, pulling Tony back to lean against his chest. "When you're able to sleep through the night, then we can discuss it."

"Bucky."

"Shut up, Tony, I'm trying to take a nap, here."

Tony huffed irritably, but curled his hands over Bucky's arms, still wrapped protectively around Tony's shoulders.

***

Steve swung into the room and slapped a tranq gun into Bucky's hands. "Suit up," he said. "We've got dinosaurs in Queens."

"I'm on leave," Bucky protested, though his hands moved over the weapon automatically, testing its heft, checking the bolt action and the chamber. "Can't Clint--"

"Hawkeye and Widow are in Europe," Steve bit off, already in full-on Captain America mode even though he hadn't changed clothes yet. "You're the sharpshooter I've got to hand, so _suit up_ , Soldier."

Before Bucky could argue again, Steve was out the door. He hadn't even glanced at Tony.

"Go," Tony said.

"Tony, I can't just--"

"I'm fine, Buck. Ninety percent back to normal. Okay, maybe seventy-eight. The point is, I swear I can sit here by myself for a few hours while you go take care of... Wait, hold up. Did he say _dinosaurs_?"

"Um. I think he did, yes."

Tony drew a deep breath, then winced and nearly choked on a cough before slumping back down in the bed and crossing his arms petulantly. "Well, now I'm definitely not fine. I want to see the dinosaurs, too."

Tony looked... okay. Not great. Pale and still too-thin, dark circles under his eyes. But not dying. Not suffering, at least not much. Bucky swallowed. "Okay. I'll..."

"Call me as soon as it's done and tell me where the post-battle meal is going to be so I can talk you into bringing me back something that Bruce thinks will slow my healing."

"Tony--"

"Go. Stop neglecting the team. I'm not going anywhere."

***

"Winter Soldier, are you sniping my kills?" Tony sounded irritable. Probably because Bucky was, in fact, sniping his kills.

"Technically, they're robots, so they can't be killed," Bucky tried.

"Technically, you're a jerk who is _sniping my kills_."

Bucky took aim and fired again. "Did you realize you were on the open comm channel?"

"You did it again! Stop that! And yes, of course I know which channel I'm on. Because Cap needs to know that you are sniping my kills instead of covering Widow's approach like you're supposed to be doing."

"I can cover both of you from up here. It's a good nest."

"Is Winter Soldier allowed to say 'nest'?" Clint interjected. "It seems to me that only those of us with avian codenames ought to be allowed to use--"

"A sniper nest is a thing, Hawkass," Bucky grumbled, though he was secretly pleased to have the distraction. "I'm allowed to say nest."

"Can we please keep the open chatter down?" Steve sighed, in a tone that indicated exactly how ineffective he knew the request was going to be.

Bucky's comm beeped to indicate a private channel. "If I'm going to save your ass the reaming it so richly deserves for being such an overprotective mother hen," Clint said, "the least you could do is not call me insulting names."

"Wouldn't be believable if I didn't insult you," Bucky said, picking off a robot that was barreling down on Natasha. "Besides, Tony's been on bedrest for _weeks_ , my ass could use a little--"

"Aaaaand we're done here," Clint overrode, clicking the private channel back off.

Bucky grinned and shot another robot. His comm beeped again.

"Clint, if you--"

"Stop, seriously," Tony interrupted. "I'm fine, Bucky. Like, ninety-five percent, even Bruce said so. We were sparring just yesterday. I'm _fine_."

"Can't help it," Bucky said. "Sparring was fine, but now that you're in the armor, even time one of them even looks your way--"

"They don't have faces," Tony pointed out.

"You know what I mean, Tony. I had to watch you get shot. I had to see that, I had to see your blood--" Bucky bit down hard, forcing himself to breathe through his nose so he wouldn't hyperventilate. He shot another robot angling toward Natasha, then said, "It's going to take me a while, Tony. I need you to accept that, okay?"

Three blocks away, a robot peeled out of the formation to chase Iron Man. Bucky sighted, but forced himself not to shoot. Yet. Iron Man rolled over and repulsored it out of the sky, then turned toward Bucky and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Yeah, okay, babe, I get it," Tony said. "But you're stepping in if Clint tries to give me a hard time for the count."

"Clint's gonna have no room to talk, boss," Bucky promised. "We're gonna leave his feathered butt in the dust."


	25. Prompt: Road Trip (headcanon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [thebardofeccentricity](http://thebardofeccentricity.tumblr.com/) requested: Tony+Bucky+Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a series of VERY QUICK prompt responses as part of my birthday celebration, and this one turned out more headcanon than actual fic; sorry!

 

Tony doesn’t get a lot of time off from being the CTO of SI, but he idly mentions one day that it would be fun to take off a couple of weeks and take Bucky on a road trip. Someone overhears and mentions it to Pepper, who realizes that he hasn’t taken more than a few days off at a time in _years_ (and the last time he took more than a week off, it was to remove the shrapnel from his heart and repair his chest cavity, so those were not exactly pleasant weeks). She has a few words with her PA and Tony’s PA (whom he barely realizes exists) and suddenly… he’s on vacation.

There’s even a planned itinerary, reservations at hotels and restaurant along the way already made, the maps programmed into a GPS. Steve, when he heard about it, enthusiastically researched the route and has printed out an entire _binder_ 's worth of advertisements for cheese roadside attractions that he thinks they might find amusing or interesting.

Tony and Bucky accept the GPS and the binder, nod and smile and agree that their friends have done a wonderful thing for them, and get in the car. As soon as they’ve cleared the city boundaries, Tony throws the GPS out the window. He’s pretty sure Pepper expected no less.

Bucky, on the other hand, props his feet up on the dash and goes through the binder one page at a time. After he’s read each page, he carefully rips it free, wads it up, and throws it into the backseat. (When they stop for gas or to stretch their legs, he gathers up all the pages and throws them into the trash, of course. Tony’s pretty particular about the state of his cars.)

Toward the end of the first day, they pull over somewhere in Virginia — or maybe it’s North Carolina by now — and Tony arranges to have the car garaged, and buys (for cash) a used pickup truck. It’s summer, so they throw sleeping bags in the bed of the truck and pull over on the side of a back road each night, lying side-by-side, fingers entwined and looking up at the stars until they fall asleep. (Tony promises if it looks like rain, they’ll stop at a hotel, but their luck holds, and it only rains once the whole trip.) They wake up each morning twined in each others’ arms and covered in dew.

They do stop at a few roadside attractions, and some of them might even have been in Steve’s binder. The truck breaks down once, but Tony has almost as much fun climbing into the engine to fix it as he would’ve had puttering around the cave they’d been following signs to, and Bucky’s happy sit on the side of the road and soak in the sun. Pepper calls him once with a company emergency, and he talks an R&D project through a sticking point while they’re sitting on the pier of a lake that’s so calm it looks like glass.

When they get back home, Tony complains for a week about his back from sitting in a car for so long, and he grumbles about how far behind he is in his work, but Pepper just ignores him, because he’s so much more relaxed that he looks ten years younger, and Bucky grinned non-stop for the first three days.


	26. Prompt: Bucky Meets Tiberius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following anonymous prompt: how about bucky meets tonys abusive ex (tiberius?) and fucking destroys him :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr as one of a series of VERY QUICK prompt responses I did as part of my birthday celebration.

"Oh, you just don’t understand," the suave blonde says, his eyes following Tony across the crowded banquet hall. "Anthony and I have a _past_.” He loads the word with meaning and barely cuts his eyes at Bucky before looking back at Tony hungrily. Possessively. “I’m sure you’re tolerably amusing to him, of course — I’m sure he’s tricked out that _darling_ trinket of an arm he’s made for you — but there’s just no competing with _history_ , gorgeous. No hard feelings, hm?”

It’s a long time since anyone has made Bucky feel this angry. He thinks about what little Tony’s said about this man — Stone — and he thinks about the blank gaps that Rhodey had tersely filled in last month when they’d found out Stone would be at this event, and he thinks about the way Pepper’s usually warm and welcoming eyes turn cold whenever they’ve fallen on Stone, and he lets the heat of all that anger settle into a fire in his belly.

"Hard feelings?" he repeats, wrapping his _darling trinket_ of a hand around Stone’s arm, to all outward appearances a comradely gesture. “Now why would I have hard feelings?

"Because Tony _flinches_ when I get mad at him? Because he always assumes it’s _his fault_ when I’m mad? Because we were together for _months_ before he ever let himself get mad back at me? Because no matter how brilliant he is, he never believes anything he’s done is good enough? Because he spent the better part of four decades pickled so he could try to convince himself he doesn’t care?” Bucky squeezes his hand a little tighter, keeps his face calm and smiling. “Why would I have hard feelings about any of that?”

Stone is trying, not delicately, to pull his arm free of Bucky’s grasp. “That’s his father’s doing,” Stone gasped. “Anthony was a drunk long before we ever even met.”

"And I’m sure you did everything in your power to keep him that way." Bucky lets his pleasant expression drop, lets his face fall into the icy, expressionless mask of the Winter Soldier, though he’s far from feeling it. "You kept him helpless. Let him think he depended on you, long after he’d learned that he _couldn’t_ depend on you.” Bucky tightens his grip, and Stone stops trying to pull free — any more pressure, and the arm will break. “Let me tell you this: Now, _your_ life depends on _him_. He’s got people he can depend on now, and I? I am not the scariest monster under Tony Stark’s bed, not by a long shot.

"Give us an excuse, Stone. Just one. If you make Tony so much as frown, I promise, you will find out _exactly_ how hard our feelings can be.”

Tony’s approaching; time to wrap it up. Bucky leans in and breathes in Stone’s ear. “When it happens, because you are too stupid to heed a warning, you should pray that I get to you first. All I’ll do is hurt you, and then kill you. Natasha wants to take the time to do it right, and train you to kneel at Tony’s feet and eat out of his hand.” Bucky tips his head and lets his lips curve into a thin smile. “Unless that’s what you really wanted, all along?”

Bucky releases Stone’s arm, then, and ignores Stone’s blank, frightened stare to turn and greet Tony with a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Tony, thank goodness. I’m dying to meet Ms. Okiya, she looks like she’d let me turn her around the dance floor once or twice.” He slips his arm through Tony’s and guides him back out into the room. He can feel Stone’s eyes on his back the whole way, and smiles to himself. When they pass Natasha, playing her role as Pepper’s assistant and bodyguard for the evening, he leans in to whisper a word in her ear, making sure Stone is still watching.

Natasha, bless her, turns to give Stone a slow, appraising look and her best, most menacing smile.

Ten minutes later, as Bucky is bowing Ms. Okiya off the floor, he notes that Stone seems to have left the party early.


	27. Prompt: Tony's Teen Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to ZombieOnAVespa's headcanon/prompt: All lovely Stony fics feature the "Tony fancied The Captain as a teenager" trope but in the Tony/Bucky world what if Teenage Tony fancied the SNARKY BADASS SIDEKICK instead? Bucky looks hella fine in that blue jacket in those film reels! Plus maybe Tony would want to be "Fuck you Dad, Cap ain't all that HELLO GORGEOUS! Who dat?" (He secretly has a very worn Howling Commando collectable card of Bucky).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr as one of a series of VERY QUICK prompt responses I did as part of my birthday celebration.

"What’s in here?" Bucky held up a dusty shoebox, tied with a piece of dingy green-wrapped electrical wire. On the top was written "TONY’S STUFF DO NOT OPEN" in a surprisingly neat hand.

Tony glanced up from where he was trying to sort out records that hadn’t been irretrievably warped by the heat of the attic, and snorted. “God, I think that goes back to boarding school. I’m sure it’s all hideously embarrassing.”

"Yeah?" Grinning, Bucky slid the wire off the box and sat cross-legged on the floor before he took off the lid. He took out a folded sheet of paper and carefully opened it. "Acceptance letter from MIT," he said and held it out to Tony. "Your dad didn’t frame this or something?"

Tony shrugged. “It was undergrad, undergrad didn’t count. Maybe if he’d still been around when I got into my first PhD program.”

Bucky grimaced, but forced himself not to apologize. He pulled out a photo. “Pretty girl.”

Tony knelt behind Bucky and rested his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. “Marissa, I think? She tutored me in history and I tutored her in math. Might’ve had the hots for her, a little bit.”

"Yeah? Did you charm her pants off like you did mine?"

Tony laughed. “You _met_ me when I was fifteen; what do _you_ think?”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, okay, I guess not.”

"Asshole."

"Too dusty up here, try me later." Bucky smirked, but failed to dodge Tony’s swat because his eyes had gone round. "Oh my God, do you actually have a _Captain America_ comic in here?”

"Oh, shit, is that in there? Fuck. Give me the box now."

Bucky held the box out of Tony’s reach, laughing. “Oh, no, no _way_ , this is too good! These were _terrible_ comics, why were you still holding onto them at, what, fourteen?”

"Not all of them. Just that one." Tony’s voice was muffled and when Bucky twisted around to look at him, his ears and the back of his neck were bright red.

"Are you _blushing_? This _is_ gonna be good. C’mon, spill.”

Tony heaved a sigh and mumbled into his knees. “Embarrassing kiddie crush.”

Bucky grinned and flipped through the pages of the old book — no, vintage; it would’ve been old even when Tony had it. God, the writing was terrible. “On Captain America? It’s not that bad, boss, like two-thirds of the _country_ had a crush on—” The next several pages fell open to a two-page spread. The title at the top read, “MEET THE HOWLING COMMANDOS! In this issue: Captain America’s RIGHT-HAND MAN, BUCKY BARNES!” The spread contains a bunch of little factoids (which are mostly sort of correct, if you allow for propaganda hyperbole) and some photographs of Bucky that he doesn’t remember posing for. The biggest picture, on the right-hand page, was smudged and slightly wrinkled.

Bucky squinted at it, and then looked over at Tony. “Tony, did you practice kissing on my picture?” Tony made a noise that was a pathetic hybrid of a squeak and a moan. Bucky laughed and leaned over to kiss the back of his neck. “That’s unbelievably cute, really.”

"Shoot me now," Tony groaned.

Bucky laughed again and tossed the old comic back into the box, then pulled a not-entirely reluctant Tony into his lap. “I’m flattered, really. Everyone else had crushes on Steve.” Tony mumbled something incoherent and sighed, resting his forehead on Bucky’s good shoulder.

Bucky smirked. “Play your cards right, you could get an autograph.”

Tony smacked his arm, not hard enough to hurt. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

"Nope. But I promise not to tell the others."

"…Guess I can live with that as a compromise."


	28. Prompt: Shaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to ZombieOnAVespa's headcanon/prompt: Occasionally Tony asks Bucky to help shape his beard with a straight blade razor. This usually leaves Bucky blinking back tears as he does it because he has a 3 digit killcount as Winter Soldier but Tony has this blissful content look on his face whenever Bucky passes the blade over him gently. Tony doesn't close his eyes and whenever Bucky's eyes meet his he always has a small little smile ready. It's one of the most trusting gestures between them even though they're not talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr as one of a series of VERY QUICK prompt responses I did as part of my birthday celebration.

_[Takes place fairly early in the relationship…]_

 

"You want me to do what?" Bucky stared. His human hand was already starting to tremble.

"Straight razors still give the best shave," Tony said easily. "Plus, I like being shaved. It’s nice. Relaxing. I get to lean back in a chair with a nice hot towel on my face and let you take care of me."

_This man has become a problem. I need you to take care of him._

Bucky shuddered, rejecting the memory. “Are you insane, boss? You’re asking me to put a blade on your throat. _Me_.”

Tony’s gaze met his steadily — compassionately, as if he could actually see all the ghosts that Bucky carried with him. Maybe he could. Tony studied Bucky’s face for a long moment, and then he nodded, once. “I do.”

"You don’t—"

"I do," Tony repeated, a little louder. Firmly. He picked up Bucky’s left hand and kissed the knuckles gently before wrapping Bucky’s metal fingers around his throat. "If you’d wanted to hurt me, you’ve had ample opportunity already," Tony said. The new hand was sensitive enough that Bucky could feel the vibration of Tony’s voice against its palm and fingers.

It was far too easy to envision closing those fingers, to imagine the resulting spurt of blood and raw flesh. He started to pull away, but Tony’s hand was still on his wrist, holding him ever-so-gently in place. A sound escaped Bucky’s own throat, an intermingling of frustration and fear and, terrifyingly, desire.

"You always have a choice," Tony said, challenging. "But I’m telling you that I want it. I want you to choose this. To let me trust you."

The tableau held for another long moment, Bucky oscillating between fear and wanting; Tony watching him with that warm, confident expression that he’d  _always_ had when he was pushing Bucky to do something insane. It was heartening, and also maddening, because so far Tony had never been wrong about whether Bucky was ready for whatever insanity Tony was proposing, even when Bucky didn’t want to believe it.

Bucky huffed out a sigh, capitulating. Bucky always gave in to Tony’s pushing, and they both knew it. “Hot towel and everything,” Tony prompted, “don’t forget.” He put on a smug, rich-brat grin, a mask that somehow drained the worst of the terror from Bucky’s bones.

"Yeah, okay," Bucky grumbled.

Tony released Bucky’s wrist then, sliding his hand up the arm and into Bucky’s hair, feathering his fingers through the strands. Bucky left his hand on Tony’s throat, shifting it just enough so he could slide his thumb over Tony’s pulse.

Tony tipped his head to expose his neck more, bratty grin fading to a proud, gentle smile. “And afterward, I’ll take care of you.”


	29. Prompt: More Sam Wilson!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following prompt from [honeysucklesheets](http://honeysucklesheets.tumblr.com/): I know you have a lot of prompts already, but I would looooove to see more interaction between Sam and the rest of the Avengers in M&T!! :) Him and Tony flying together occasionally; Sam sometimes unintentionally slipping into therapist!mode around everyone though no one minds it (bonus pts for calming Bruce and/or Bucky and preventing a Hulkout/WS appearance); Clint being bird bros with him... The more Sam Wilson, the better~! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr as one of a series of VERY QUICK prompt responses I did as part of my birthday celebration.

"Let’s talk upgrades, Wilson."

"Nope, not interested."

"Come on. Those wings of yours are going to get irreparably damaged one of these days and I need to have something waiting in the wings — pun intended, heh — for you to use."

"You can have an exact duplicate of these wings waiting for me."

"Sam. You’re killing me here. You know that, right? You’re _actually_ killing me. You have the foremost mechanical mind of the century _literally_ at your feet—”

"Not my fault you wanted to talk and work on the Porche’s engine at the same time."

"—and you are _squandering_ the opportunity. Thank you for not scoffing at the ‘foremost mind’ bit, by the way, that’s the one that everyone else always groans at.”

"You’re telling it like it is, man; I’m not going to throw shade on the one bit of genuine pride you actually let yourself have."

"Is this a counseling session now? I have _plenty_ of pride, thank you very much.”

"You have a lot of masks disguised as arrogance. Don’t think I haven’t figured it out. And okay, you’re in front of the camera a lot, they’re useful masks, I’m not saying they’re not useful or necessary. But when it’s just the team, you could maybe let it slide a little more. It’s the real you that we like, you know that."

"Christ, you’re as bad as Romanov. Worse, even. She just exploits all my neuroses; she doesn’t try to make me _talk_ about them. I thought we had an understanding, Sam: no talking about the state of my mental health, and I make toys— son of a bitch, you _distracted_ me.”

"For about thirty seconds."

"Don’t sound so glum, that was _brilliant_. Usually the only thing that can distract me from tech is sex. And even that’s got to be—”

"Stop talking about your sex life to me, Stark. I am not that kind of counselor, and we are not that kind of friends."

"Okay, let’s talk about your wings instead. I’ve got a couple of ideas for updates to the— hey, where are you going?"

"I’m going to call Bucky and tell him to come distract you for me."

"If you _tell_ me you’re trying to distract me — or have me distracted, whatever — that kind of hamstrings the effort. I’m just saying. I am not seventeen, I am actually capable of resisting the admittedly strong temptation of sex. Even really amazing sex, which with Bucky is pretty much—”

"Tony, I am calling Bucky or I am calling your therapist to make an appointment. Do you want to pick, or shall I?"

"You play dirty, Wilson."

"Mm-hm."

"I like that."


	30. Prompt: Sick Tony/Caretaker Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following anonymous prompt: Sick!tony fic with Bucky trying his best to take care of him/get him to even lay down???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr as one of a series of VERY QUICK prompt responses I did as part of my birthday celebration.

"Tony, what the hell are you doing in here?"

"It’s my workshop, Bucky. I’m working." Tony’s voice was raspy and thin, but he didn’t even look up from the circuit board he was hunched over.

"You’re sick."

"Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t get sick."

Bucky sighed and leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms. “You sound like an asthmatic duck. Or maybe a frog with emphysema.”

"It’s just allergies, respiratory something-or-other, I’m _not_ _sick_.” Tony still didn’t look up. The smell of hot metal wafted up from the soldering iron. “Stop jiggling the bench.”

"I’m not jiggling anything."

"You are so. Seriously, this is fine detail work, if you don’t stop shaking the table I’m not going to be able to—"

"I’m not shaking the table, Tony." Bucky frowned down at him. Sure enough, Tony’s hands were, minutely, trembling. "You’re sick."

"I am _not_ —” Tony’s protest died away as Bucky reached past him to unplug the soldering iron. “Damn it, I have to finish this, Pepper will—”

"Pepper, unlike you, understands that you are human and mortal and occasionally get sick. Come on, Tony, no more work today. I’ll call Pepper and she can yell at me instead of you, okay?"

"She’ll just yell at me later," Tony mumbled, but he wasn’t trying to snatch the soldering iron’s plug back out of Bucky’s hand, and that spoke louder than any words possibly could.

"I’ll make her promise not to," Bucky said, slipping an arm around Tony’s waist. Jesus. This morning, Tony had been a little warm; now he was nearly as hot as the business end of his soldering iron.

"What are you doing? Are you trying to help me _stand up_? I can stand up just fine, Christ, if anything, it’s just a cold.”

"What, I can’t just want to be close to you?" Bucky asked innocently, pretending that he wasn’t supporting half of Tony’s weight. "Come on, boss, let’s get you to bed."

"I’m supposed to be _working_ ,” Tony chided, even though he was letting himself be steered. “But since you went to all the trouble of coming down here to round me up for a mid-day quickie, I guess I can indulge you just this once. But only because you’re so hot.”

"I am not the hot one here, and I wasn’t planning on it being quick," Bucky bantered back, all but carrying Tony into the elevator. "In fact," —he cast his eyes meaningfully up at one of JARVIS’ cameras— "you’re gonna need a doctor when I’m through with you, babe."

"Izzatso?" Tony said, trying to sound challenging but mostly just slurring. The small LED next to the camera lens flashed twice — message received — before the elevator started moving. Tony lurched and nearly fell, and Bucky tightened his grip.

"You have no idea," Bucky said. "Gonna pin you to the mattress and keep you there for the rest of the day, and all night, too."

"I’m not sick," Tony said abruptly. "Can’t be. Too much to do."

"Christ, but you’re slippery," Bucky sighed. "Tell you what: come take a nap, and if you’re able to hold your hands steady afterward, I’ll let you get back to work."

"I can—" Tony stopped, squinting at the quavering hand he’d held up to demonstrate. "Huh."

"See? No dangerous equipment or heavy gear for you right now."

"Just a nap," Tony said, bargaining like a petulant child.

"Absolutely," Bucky lied.

"You’ll stay with me?"

"Whatever you want." Bucky dropped a kiss on top of Tony’s head. He was going to have to stay at Tony’s side anyway, he suspected, to keep him from sneaking away again.

Tony grumbled, then slumped against Bucky’s side. “Fine. Just a nap.”

"Sure thing," Bucky agreed, and hoped that while Tony was sleeping, Bruce would turn up with something that would keep him under for the next forty-eight hours.


	31. Prompt: CommSex/Banter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In response to the following anonymous prompt: I'd love to see Tony and Bucky indulging in a little phone sex over the comm lines during a boring mission or something, just to wind each other up. I just love their banter so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to tumblr as one of a series of VERY QUICK prompt responses I did as part of my birthday celebration.

"Hey, what’s cookin’, good lookin’?"

Bucky sighed. “Tony, why are you calling me? I’m on a stakeout. Right now. This  _very second_. Also, seriously? That line was old and moldy when I was a kid.”

"You are on stakeout in a coffee shop, and you are sitting there looking mysterious and brooding," Tony said. "And if you were trying to seduce the barista, that’d be a  _fantastic_ approach, but it is _shit_ for blending into the crowd. A guy talking on the phone and rolling his eyes at his boyfriend’s cheesy lines? Everyone’s seen that, no one’s going to look twice. I’m  _helping_.”

"You are  _not_ helping.”

"I would be helping if you’d just  _let_ me.”

"You are, literally, the worst spy on the team. Even Bruce and Thor—"

"I am hurt, Barnes.  _Hurt_.”

"Am I supposed to offer to kiss it better?" There: from Bucky’s vantage point, he saw the mark through the windows, heading for the coffee shop. Bucky leaned back in his seat and propped one foot on the chair opposite him. At the signal, Clint and Sam and Natasha got up and got in line.

"That’s a good place to start, yes."

"Start? And where do you think I ought to be going?" Bucky challenged. He was grinning like an idiot, and he knew it, but he didn’t care.

"Preferably somewhere pants-optional. Or even pants-restricted. That sounds even better, I think my apartment is going to be pants-off-required from now on."

"Oh, it’s  _your_ apartment now?” Bucky laughed and reached for his coffee.

Clint asked a question and then tapped on his hearing aid and made the barista repeat the answer, slowly and loudly. Nat and Sam, feigning boredom, started poking at each other, giggling like kids. The mark sighed and crossed his arms, tapping his fingers.

"Of course it’s my apartment," Tony said into Bucky’s ear. "I’m in it. No one else is in it right now, so it’s mine. Right? Just me. All alone. And, as the rules clearly state, I am sans pants." His voice had dropped, goddammit it was  _that voice_ , the one with the direct connection to Bucky’s cock.

"Dammit, Tony," he growled. " _Mission_.”

"I’m going to give you a mission to come home and do something about my lack of pants," Tony said.

"Christ," Bucky swore, trying not to shift. If he put his leg down, it was a signal to abort. He could not put his fucking leg down, and these pants were not going to conceal  _anything_ if he popped a boner. “Tony, you can’t just—”

"Did you know that coffee shop security systems are  _ridiculously_ easy to get into?” Tony asked. Bucky could  _hear_ the grin in his voice.

"Are you  _watching_ me?” Bucky demanded. He did not let himself look up at the camera. Clint had changed his mind twice now about what kind of coffee he wanted. Sam and Nat’s poking had escalated into a tickling fight. Natasha shrieked and giggled and pushed Sam.

"Of course I’m watching you." Tony’s voice turned low and gravelly again, and Bucky’s skin shivered in reaction. "I’m watching you realizing that you can’t move, and I have to say that’s more than a little hot. You having to restrain yourself like that? We’re going to do something with that later. Or maybe right now, now could be good. Maybe I’ll try to find out if I can talk you into orgasm. Just my voice and your filthy imagination."

"Tony, no." Bucky’s voice broke on it, and he didn’t even care.

"Mm, I think Tony  _yes_. Think I can get you to actually say it when you come?”

"Tony, I am going to hang up this phone right now, so help me—"

"No you’re not, because you want to know if I can do it, too."

"Tony." It came out as half a whine; he hated it when Tony was right. And Tony was almost _always_ right. Oh, thank god, there, Sam and Nat’s little push-war had shoved her back into the mark. Bucky swallowed hard. Just another minute. Just one more…

"Don’t worry, babe, you won’t be in this alone. I’ll bring myself off at the same time. Hmmmm. I know you like to watch that. Should I text you some pictures, do you think? Or would that be cheating? I could just describe it, the way my hand feels right now…"

Sam was still apologizing to the mark when Nat leaned against the counter and smiled flirtatiously at the barista and ordered a small coffee with three pumps of caramel syrup. The high sign: she’d successfully swiped the files. Mission success.

And more importantly for Bucky’s aching groin: mission  _done_.

Bucky stood up, slamming back the rest of his coffee. He tossed the cup into the trash and headed straight for the bathroom, phone still at his ear.

He didn’t even care that Natasha was smirking as she watched him go.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a 30-Day challenge and then turned into mostly just promptfills specific to the M&T universe. I work prompts in (more or less) the order they were received. The current standing list of requests can be viewed [here](http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com/prompts).
> 
> I am (possibly temporarily) closing prompts on this 'verse, as I have somewhere in the neighborhood of 40 open prompts still waiting to be written, and am beginning to feel the edges of burning out, and I have at least three other open projects that I'm working on at any given time that I'd like to eventually finish.
> 
> I do want to express enormous gratitude to everyone who has submitted prompts, and I promise I do intend to get to all of them eventually! In the meantime, do still feel free to [hit me up](http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com/ask) with your headcanons or prompts outside of this 'verse! Your kudos and comments fill me with love and delight, always.


End file.
